A Wedding Story
by CaitlynMacKenzie
Summary: You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Logan and Veronica. It has taken them a long time -spanning years and continents- to get to this epic story. So without further ado, they and their friends (and several authors!) would like to share the special day with you. (This story is set after Homecomings & Deployment and before Espionage).
1. LOGAN by CaitlynMacKenzie

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This story is a collaboration and each chapter has been written by a different VM fic writer. The names of each author are included with the title of each chapter. Please note that this wedding takes place in my story universe between Homecomings  & Deployment and Espionage.

Also, I would like to extend a big thank you to my fellow marshmallows and fic writers -Bryrosea, Darlinginmyway, Disdainfullady, Jeanie 205, Natasha0, and Scandalpants for hopping aboard this fic crazy train with me. They not only agreed to participate, but also to write within the confines of my story universe and what they've created is amazing! I am truly blessed to have been able to work with them on this project. It was a wonderful experience and I cannot thank them enough for lending me (and us) their time and talent to create this unique wedding story. Enjoy!

P.S. Unfortunately, this site doesn't allow images so if you want to check out this story on Archive of Our Own- there is a wedding album, too!

* * *

 **LOGAN by CaitlynMacKenzie**

 _ **October 6, 2018**_

 _Chaos_. On the outside he was calm, but inside he was having a hard time keeping it together. _Today, I'm marrying Veronica Mars_. He was… happy for sure —overjoyed, _ecstatic_ even— but he was also nervous and terrified. She'd said yes when he proposed, participated in the wedding plans, bought a dress, agreed to the Maldives for their honeymoon, she was wearing his ring, and _yet_ …

He was still waiting for something to go wrong. Waiting for her to change her mind. To tell him that this was a mistake and she was leaving. Logan winced at the thought. He should be thankful the tabloids didn't know about the wedding because he could see _that_ headline now- _Veronica Mars: Runaway Bride_. Happy stories were _not_ written about Logan Echolls. He wanted to throw up, but instead he splashed some water on his face —ignoring the slight tremble of his fingers— and went to wake his bride.

Despite the bright California sun, their hotel room was still chilly and dark thanks to the blackout shades. Logan slipped beneath the covers of the king-sized bed and found Veronica in her burrow of blankets. Spooning their bodies together, he kissed her bare shoulder. "Time to get up," he whispered against her skin.

"Five more minutes." She nestled closer and it was almost enough to make Logan forget all the reasons why they were supposed to be getting out of bed. He lightly trailed his fingers down her side, tickling her flesh and she ineffectively swatted at his hand. "Cut it out," she mumbled into the pillow.

Sliding his hand over her hip, he caressed his way up her taut, flat stomach to gently cup her breast. He tweaked her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Better?"

In response, she rolled onto her stomach and away from his hand.

"This works too." Logan planted kisses along her spine letting his lips linger a little longer with each one. The coverlet shifted exposing her skin to the air conditioning and she shivered beneath his mouth.

"Lo _gan_." Her reproach was too husky for him to take as a serious request to stop. He sucked on the tiny dip in the small of her back while his hands stroked her thighs. Veronica scooted up the mattress out of his reach. Wrapping the blanket around her, she clicked on the bedside lamp. "Save something for the wedding night."

"Do you know" —he cradled her foot in his hands and lifted her leg— "That more than half of couples don't have sex on their wedding night?" Rising to his knees, he massaged her calf and rested her heel on his shoulder as his hands smoothed up her shapely thigh. "So we should probably play it safe and take care of it now."

"We've already taken care of it – _twice_." She pulled her leg down trapping his hand between her thighs.

He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling. "Six months is a long time, Veronica."

"How long are you planning on using that excuse?"

"As long as it works." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

He'd been home from his last deployment for two weeks now, but with final wedding preparations and reconnecting with Wyatt, there hadn't been much time for him to be alone with Veronica. That lack of couple time was how he convinced her to spend last night in a swanky hotel on the beach.

Taking his hands, she laced their fingers together, and tugged him closer. It was all the invitation he needed. His mouth met hers in a tender kiss that quickly escalated in both heat and intensity. Logan disentangled their hands and wrapped his arms around her. He let himself fall onto the mattress, lifting Veronica, and positioning her on top of him.

She cupped his face between her palms; first deepening the kiss and then pulling back. "We are _not_ going to be one of those couples."

"Huh?" His brow furrowed. "One of what couples?"

"Who skip the consummating, but" —she gave his lips a quick peck— "Right now, we have things to do. _Other_ things," she tacked on before he could make some quip about how they were _already_ doing something. "Mac insists that I have to do something girly today."

He smirked. "Are you sure that was Mac and not Wallace?"

"I'm totally going to tell him you said that." Veronica laid her head on his chest and sighed. "I would much rather stay here in bed with you."

Panic squeezed his chest and he grew still. "Our guests might be disappointed if we don't show for our own wedding." The teasing tone he was trying for failed miserably. Instead his words sounded tense and harsh. She lifted her head to see his face and he tried to soften the remark with a smile.

"I meant stay in bed as opposed to massages and manicures and makeup, oh my." With the pads of her fingers, she traced the outline of his jaw and smoothed over his lips. "You wouldn't mind a bride with bed head and chipped nail polish, right?"

"Sounds perfect" —he kissed her fingertips— "Just as long as she's you."

"Now that we've settled that, we can move on to more important things." She rolled off the mattress.

"Hey, I thought we were moving on to more important things?"

"We are." She grabbed the room service menu from the dresser and turned back toward the bed. "You're going to order me breakfast while I shower."

"You know, I don't mind a dirty bride either."

His suggestive tone made her stop well out of his reach. She chucked the menu on the pillow next to him. "But trust me, you don't want a hungry one."

"Yes ma'am."

Veronica rolled her eyes and pointed at the menu. Logan's eyes followed her as she crossed the room, giving him and the tangled sheets a wide berth. Hair tousled, lips slightly swollen, cheeks flushed, and a sexy, confident sway in her step- she was impossible to resist. He launched himself off the bed. Reading his mind, Veronica was ready- she feinted right, ducked, and then scrambled into the bathroom slamming the door behind her.

"Breakfast!" Her command was followed by the sound of the lock engaging.

Chuckling, Logan sprawled across the California-king on his back with his hands behind his head. He'd already ordered breakfast after the first time he woke her for a little morning _consummation_. The ceremony wasn't supposed to start until five-thirty —something about timing pictures for sunset— which meant a lazy and relaxing morning for them. Only he didn't feel all that relaxed.

When he was with her —could physically touch her— he was calmer. But even with the reassuring sound of the shower, he was starting to feel uneasy. An image of Veronica wrapped in the shower curtain and climbing out the bathroom window popped into his head. Her instincts made her want to run and his made him want to cling. Resisting the impulse to check on her, he got up, donned one of the hotel's bathrobes, and retrieved his suitcase from the closet.

Her wedding present was wrapped and folded into a pair of his jeans. Either he was getting better at surprising her or she was getting better at letting him think so. Even after enlisting Keith's help in tracking down the gift —his future father-in-law could keep a secret better than anyone— it still took him months to find. It was more personal than the bathroom remodel planned for while they were on their honeymoon and Logan was hoping Veronica would find the first edition sentimental and sweet instead of cloying and corny.

When room service arrived, they set breakfast out on the private balcony overlooking the ocean, and Logan put the present on her empty plate.

"Was that my breakfast?" Veronica emerged from the bathroom. She was also wearing one of the hotel bathrobes, but on her it brushed the floor and its sleeves covered her hands. "I'm starving. I don't know _how_ I worked up such an appetite- must be the ocean air."

"Must be," Logan murmured in agreement. Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, he kissed her forehead.

She rested her head on his arm and peered around his body. "Is that a present?"

"What great observational skills- maybe you should be a detective."

"And maybe you should hush up before you get yourself in trouble." Veronica gave him a light shove. "Go outside; I'll be there in a minute."

Today he was enlisting for a lifetime of taking orders from her and he couldn't wait. He saluted her with a wink, pivoted on his heel, and marched out to the balcony. _Even the weather takes orders from Veronica Mars_. It was a perfect 'getting married on the beach' day: mid-seventies, not too breezy, and sunny.

A minute was closer to ten and by the time she joined him she was dressed in a black tank top and a pair of cutoff denim shorts. She set a small box next to his plate. It was wrapped in navy blue paper with a silver bow. "For me?"

She smirked. "No, it's a tip for housekeeping." Sitting across from him, she lifted the metal cloche from a plate revealing Greek yogurt, granola, and a bowl of mixed fresh berries. "This better be yours."

"I thought brides were worried about fitting in their dress."

"Have we met? I'm Veronica Mars." She held out her hand for a beat and then removed the next two lids: brioche French toast with soft butter and warm syrup and a double order of bacon. "Now that's more like it."

Logan mixed the granola and berries into his yogurt and watched Veronica chew a piece of bacon while staring at her present. "It doesn't bite."

"So it's not a pony?" She deftly tore the wrapping, opened the gift box, and pushed back the tissue paper. "Oh, Logan" —she gingerly traced the ears of the rabbit on the yellowish tan dust jacket— "It's perfect." Raising her face, she gave him a dazzling smile.

 _You're perfect_. Her mood now was entirely different from when they had first talked about The Velveteen Rabbit. She'd been having a minor fit, but it probably had more to do with the vows than the children's book.

 **XXXX**

" _I don't want to write our own vows." Hysterical was a word he'd_ never _use to describe her, but clearly the idea of talking about her feelings in front of_ witnesses _had her rattled. She could face down a killer with a gun, but utter the word vows and she was a mess._

 _Logan smiled. "Veronica Mars, traditionalist?" He arched a skeptical eyebrow. "I didn't figure you for the love, honor and obey—"_

 _She scowled at him. "It's_ cherish _, not obey."_

 _Placing his hands on her hips, he pulled her closer. "We could add_ 'in bed' _to the end of every line like we're reading a Chinese fortune cookie. I Logan Echolls take you Veronica Mars,_ in bed _."_

 _Playing along, she batted her eyes at him. "For better or" —a wide-eyed innocent expression— "_ Worst _in bed."_

" _Well, obviously that doesn't work… and I believe it's worse."_

" _Worse, worst." She shrugged as a slight smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Does it make a difference?"_

" _No, and it doesn't matter because I've already written my vows."_

" _Shut up, no you haven't." She took a step back. At his serious expression, she held out her hand. "Let me see them."_

" _You'll hear them at our wedding." It was a mild protest because he knew if she wanted to see them, he would show them to her. Instead of delaying the inevitable, he pulled out his wallet, removed a sheet of paper and handed it to her._

 _It didn't take her long to read the five lines. "Plagiarizing Margery Williams is not writing your own vows."_

" _Technically, it would be paraphrasing by the time I was done." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You loving me makes me real. It didn't happen all at once and sometimes it was painful, but I'm a better Logan Echolls because of you. To be here with you today, knowing that what we have is real—"_

 _Veronica pressed her fingertips to his lips to silence him. She took another step back and carefully ripped the sheet of paper in two. Retaining the top half for herself, she handed him the bottom part. "Now we both have vows."_

" _So no paraphrasing?"_

 _She shook her head. "We'll know what it means."_

 _Logan glanced at his torn half. The words she kept for herself were, 'real isn't how you are made; it's a thing that happens to you. When someone loves you for a long time, really loves you, then you become real.' And she'd left him with, 'it doesn't happen all at once...it takes a long time, but once you are real...it lasts for always.'_

 **XXXX**

"Logan?" She was standing next to his chair. "I abandoned my bacon to come over here and give you a proper thank you, but"—she shrugged— "If you don't want one…" Taking a step back, she turned to walk away and he grabbed her hand tugging her onto his lap.

She cradled his face between her palms and kissed just the corner of his mouth. It was the exact same spot she'd kissed him the very first time. Logan smiled. "I think I remember what comes next."

Placing one hand on the small of her back, he pulled her closer and let his fingers just graze the top of her ass as his mouth covered hers. An entire lifetime existed between that kiss and this one and yet he still felt that same thrill. He reluctantly ended the kiss before it led them back to bed, but he didn't want to let her go. Pushing his plate out of the way, he reached across the table for hers and put it down in front of them.

Veronica eyed her French toast and then his discarded plate. "This brioche ain't big enough fer the two of us."

Her Yosemite Sam impression made him groan, but he played along. "It ain't?"

"No it ain't."

Logan kissed her shoulder. "Then you eat it and I'll open my present."

After dousing the toast with an obscene amount of butter and syrup, she tucked into her food while casting sidelong glances in his direction. Logan took his time opening the small box; he carefully removed the ribbon and the wrapping paper and then he put it down to eat some of his yogurt. The wait was driving her crazy. Dropping her fork, she made a grab for the box and Logan blocked her hand with a _'tsk, tsk.'_ She rolled her eyes.

He picked up the black velvet jeweler's box and flipped open its hinged lid. A pair of round silver cufflinks rested inside. Their initials were engraved in the center of one and the other had their wedding date. Along the edge of each link were latitude and longitude coordinates. "It's the location of the beach."

The site of their ceremony. Logan stroked his fingers down the curve of her cheek. Sometimes she worried that she didn't say the words enough, but he never doubted that she loved him. It was there in her expressive eyes and in the way she touched him and in that soft smile reserved only for him. And it was here in this box in the shape of a pair of cufflinks.

"I thought you could wear them today."

"They're not regulation," he teased. "But I think I can make an exception." His eyes locked with hers. "I love them… I love _you_ , Veronica."

She smiled and fed him a bite of her French toast.

A loud knock at the room door made him arch an eyebrow.

"Mac," she answered his silent question. "This luxury resort you insisted upon has a sea stone massage and a spa mani-pedi." She grinned. "Did that sound girly enough?"

"How would I know?"

"You _are_ the expert on girly." She shoved another piece of French toast in her mouth, grabbed a slice of bacon, and went to get the door.

"That's true. Maybe I should come with you?" Logan followed her while inspecting his hands. "I could definitely use a manicure."

Her back was to him, but he could _hear_ the eye roll. Veronica answered the door, allowing Mac into the room. "I just need five minutes."

Mac looked around and emitted a low whistle. "Fancy digs. I don't blame you for eschewing the bad luck to see the bride tradition in order to stay here."

"I'll have you know," Logan intoned. "That it had nothing to do with the suite and everything to do with me."

It was Mac's turn to roll her eyes. "You keep telling yourself that buddy and maybe one day it will be true."

He humphed. "Now you sound like my wife... my better half… the old ball—"

Veronica hip checked him to shut him up. "Not yet."

"I was practicing."

Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his jaw. "Have fun with the boys."

 **XXXX**

He was _not_ having fun with the boys. Well, he had been at first, but not now.

Dick picked him up at the resort with boards in the back of his jeep. August to November was San Diego's best surf and —even though they missed the early morning session— it was good to be back in the water. Logan was sure there was some kind of irony to that. Six months out at sea, but away from the ocean. The south swells combined with the Santa Ana winds and gave them a few beautiful rides. It was exactly what he needed to stop worrying about Veronica.

He kept trying to remind himself that _she_ was the one who wanted to get married. Granted, when she first brought it up she was riding her own wave of pregnancy hormones, but that was two years ago- plenty of time to change her mind and she hadn't.

In a lot of ways she was the same Veronica she'd always been. Brilliant, funny, and fiercely independent with an insatiable curiosity, a strong sense of justice, and she wasn't afraid to speak her mind- sometimes with a very a wicked tongue. But she was also different. She—

"Will you stop mooning over Veronica?" The good-natured complaint came from Dick.

"Aw, leave him alone; he's allowed to act like a lovesick teenager on his wedding day." Jake jumped to Logan's defense and Wallace shook his head.

"What's his excuse all the other days?"

Weevil chimed in with: "Boy's got it bad."

This was why he was _not_ having fun with the boys- the constant ribbing.

When he and Dick had finished surfing, they'd gone back to the hotel to shower and then they'd met Jake, Wallace, and Weevil at a cigar lounge for lunch. The lounge sported a six hundred square foot walk-in humidor, cigars hand-rolled on the premises —beers on tap from around the world for the guys and an espresso machine for him— plus a catered lunch in the private room. It was great until the first round and the first Cubans came with a side of stories.

Weevil started with the smashing headlights, embellishing the story until Veronica's car and Logan both were totaled – the car with the crowbar and Logan with Weevil's fists. Wallace trotted out the "foreplay" comment and it was downhill ever since. Dick brought up the days of not showering and moping in bed after their — _"Was it your fourth breakup or your fifth?"_ — and how he had to lock Logan out on the balcony for housekeeping to clean. Even Jake decided to share a few 'Logan pining for Veronica' stories from the early days at OCS _and_ from during this last cruise.

"Lighten up, Mouth; you finally got the girl," Jake said as they were leaving the lounge and headed to their next stop- a hot towel shave at an exclusive men's salon.

He echoed Veronica's words from earlier, "Not yet."

Keith was joining them at the salon after dropping Wyatt off with Veronica and Mac at the hotel. Logan sincerely hoped his _'friends'_ were done reminiscing about his past with Veronica. The last thing he needed was to remind Keith of all the reasons he had to disapprove of his daughter's choice in husbands.

Weevil blocked their path. His discomfort was apparent in the way he didn't quite meet Logan's eyes and the stiff set of his shoulders. Jake nodded toward the door and moved a few paces away to give them a moment of privacy, but it didn't help relax Weevil; if possible, he seemed more stressed. _Did something happen with Jade?_ Weevil's real purpose soon became apparent and Logan tried a new tack —using the new Mrs. Echolls— to resolve the issue once and for all.

"She's letting you call her that?"

"Not a chance. So don't tell her, okay?" Weevil started to walk away and Logan asked: "Is Jade coming to the wedding?"

"Uh, I don't know."

They'd spent a lot of time talking about his marriage to Jade with Weevil doing most of the talking and Logan just being there to listen. He, better than anyone, knew what it was like to have your past come back to bite you, and he was hoping things would work out for Weevil. He watched the other man leave and then joined Jake at the door.

Dick was waiting for them in the parking lot, texting on his phone. The three of them moved down the row of cars and Jake stopped next to a Dodge Caravan. Dick smirked and knocked on the hood. "Sweet ride," he mocked. "Bet the ladies love your _mini_ van."

"Not as much as they love my uniform, but I get no complaints about the size of my van." Jake used the key fob to open the automatic sliding door. "I was voluntold to pick up Logan's sister at the airport and I needed this thing —three trunks, two suitcases, a makeup case, and a carryon— and she said she was traveling _light_."

Trina was coming back from the Toronto Film Festival by way of a two-week shopping spree in New York so Logan was surprised she didn't have _more_. "Did you manage to keep her away from Veronica?"

"You were right- that's the first place she wanted to go." Jake finished putting up the stow-and-go seating in the now empty minivan.

"I told you to bring something shiny as a distraction." His sister had no filter. Making Veronica spend the hours leading up to the wedding in Trina's presence would be cruel and unusual punishment.

"Nothing shiny, just adorable." Jake shrugged. "I used Wyatt as a lure and dropped Trina off with Keith and my mom."

Logan groaned. Leaving his tactless sister with _Keith_ was almost as bad as taking her to Veronica.

"Chill, dude." Dick clapped him on the back. " _Ronnie's_ supposed to be the control-freak, remember?" He nodded toward the minivan. "Ride over with the soccer mom" —Jake flipped him the finger and Dick grinned— "I've got to swing by the restaurant and check on things. I'll meet you there."

Nodding, Logan climbed into the passenger seat. Weevil wasn't joining them —he needed to pick up Valentina from Jade's house— and Wallace was going to get Keith so he and Dottie would only have one car at the reception.

Jake started the car. "Judging by today, you wouldn't know we call you Mouth for a reason. Is everything okay?"

"You got them to call me Mouth because you're a dick- not because I talk too much, _C-Town_." Logan emphasized Jake's own call sign with a hint of warning, which he ignored.

"It's a _great_ story." Jake grinned. "I was planning to tell it at the reception as a wedding present for Veronica; she keeps asking for the details."

"Let her keep asking." _Veronica_. Logan dug out his cell phone- no missed calls or texts. His thumb hovered over the 'messages' icon as he debated whether to send her a text or not.

"You're afraid she's not going to show?"

"It's been known to happen," he mumbled more to himself than Jake. Logan put away his phone. He was being a jackass. They had a life together now —a home and a family— there was _no way_ she would leave him waiting at the altar. It was time for a subject change. "Bringing Becky to the wedding?"

"Bec _ca_ and… are you crazy? I don't need mom getting any ideas."

Logan chuckled. "You mean _more_ ideas. She has you pegged as the first one to give her a daughter-in-law and a grandchild."

He shook his head. "You've already taken the hit for me, brother."

 _Brother_. It was the same way Logan felt- that they were brothers. Not just because they served together, but for everything else, and he was definitely going to miss flying with him. "You know—"

"Don't go getting all weepy and misty-eyed on me, Mouth."

"—that makes _Trina_ your sister too." Logan finished his sentence with a smirk.

Thumping his chest with a fist, Jake groaned. "Right to the heart."

He slowed the car as they approached their destination. Designed to look like an old-time barber shop, the exclusive men's salon was straight from a 1940's Hollywood set. Its storefront was a dark, rich walnut with a paned glass window and an antique barber pole. The name of the shop, Mug & Brush, was in neat gold lettering above the window.

 _A Hollywood movie set or from the pages of a classic novel…Veronica_. Logan cast a suspicious glance at Jake. "Whose idea was this?"

Shaking his head, he parked the car. "We were all silenced under the penalty of a wicked looking stun gun." He climbed from the minivan. "The military could use her- she's very frightening when she wants to be."

 _That's my girl_. Logan grinned. "Did she plan the entire day?"

"We had our orders- surfing, cigars, and a shave."

He followed Jake inside. A gold bell above the door trilled as they entered. Wide-plank hardwood floors complemented the marble-topped wood counters and the beamed ceiling. The left and far walls were exposed brick and the right wall was covered in white subway tile in order to lighten the space. Six barber chairs elaborately carved from oak and walnut and fitted with fine leather upholstery were stationed in front of wide mirrors down either side of the long room.

A receptionist greeted them with: "Mr. Echolls?" Logan stepped forward. "Reservation for five?"

"They're on their way."

"Do you want to start without them or wait?"

"We can wait."

She showed them to the back of the shop and two black leather wingback chairs with nailheads. Once they were seated she made them each an espresso. Logan doubted the wisdom of another cup of coffee, but drank it anyway and declined the offer of a second one.

Keith and Wallace arrived. His future father-in-law seemed in high spirits even after a morning spent with Trina, which was a good sign. "How did things go with Wyatt last night?"

He and Veronica were a little worried about leaving her for a sleepover with Grandpa. Since he'd been home, the baby had been glued to Logan's side to the point of wanting to sleep in between him and Veronica every night.

"We made a fort in the living room and read stories by flashlight." Keith stretched his back and winced. "Sleeping on the floor was not ideal." Logan opened his mouth and Keith shut him down. "And not one word from you about my age."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir- I think I could get used to that."

Before Logan could reply, Dick strolled in. "Let's get this party started."

It was very relaxing. The hot towel wrapped around his face, the warm pre-shave oil massaged into his skin, and the hot shaving cream. As the groom, he was treated to an aftershave mud mask applied to his entire face with a brush and removed with gentle strokes of a disk sponge. The barber completed the shave with a cold-water, lavender scented towel wrapped around his face for a few seconds and then an aftershave balm.

When he was done, Keith and Wallace were still in their barber chairs and Jake was busy flirting with the receptionist. Dick was sprawled in one of the wingback leather chairs, drinking a cappuccino, and staring at a sheet of paper. Logan kicked his foot. "I've never seen you study something that intently unless it was porn or the new Victoria's Secret catalog."

"I'm memorizing my toast."

"For the _wedding_ ," Logan choked. "Uh, we're not really doing the traditional stuff so you don't need—"

"Don't worry, dude; I've got this."

 _Veronica is going to kill me… or him… or both of us_. "Let me see it." Logan held out his hand for the sheet of square paper. It wasn't a request. Dick could _not_ be allowed to give an unauthorized speech.

With a grin, he crumpled the piece of paper and shoved it in his mouth; chewing it until it was a mangled wad of pulp and saliva. He spit it into his palm and offered it to Logan.

"Very classy, Dick."

"That's me- a touch of class."

"You're touched all right." Logan tapped his head. "And you're an ass."

Dick dumped the massive spitball into the trashcan. "Mac said it was okay."

"That doesn't make me feel better; her taste is questionable- she thinks you're okay too." Logan pulled out his wallet to tip the barbers and Dick frowned at him.

"Put that away; I took care of it."

Wallace had joined Jake at the front of the shop and he was on his cell. "The _what_ now?" A lot of head nods. ""No problem," he said. "Tell Veronica not to worry. Wallace Fennel is on the case." Hanging up, he glanced at Logan and Dick. "What's a pomander?"

Logan shrugged.

"It's a ball of flowers with a loop of ribbon so you can carry it like a purse or wear it on your wrist." At Dick's explanation, all the guys stared at him. "Dudes, I go to _a lot_ of weddings."

Wallace shook his head. "Well, the florist forgot it and I've got to go pick it up."

As they started from the shop, the receptionist put a staying hand on Logan's arm. "Mr. Echolls? Your wife left this for you."

"My what?" Logan had heard her perfectly fine the first time, but he wanted her to say the words again.

"Uh." The receptionist cast a pleading look in Jake's direction, afraid she'd made a mistake and waited for him to rescue her. When he didn't, she repeated, "Your wife?"

 _My wife_. Logan smiled and took the offered note. It was an embossed card the color of sea glass and on it Veronica had written: _Let's go storm the beach together, flyboy_.

 **XXXX**

He'd stormed the beach, now he was just waiting for the together part.

It was quiet except for the sound of the ocean and the chatter of their guests. Aside from the usual suspects, they'd invited guys from his squad, Veronica's roommates from Stanford, and two friends of hers from law school. He'd met them briefly when he went to investigate the small tote bags Dottie was passing out to the guests. They looked suspiciously like a _favor_ and Veronica was very firm on that subject: _"Ech, favors- absolutely not."_ And she would _definitely not_ like cheesy, beach-themed ones.

"They aren't favors; they're flip-flops" —was how Dottie defended her actions before snatching the bag away from him— "They're practical like Veronica."

"Ok _aay_ , but they better not have Logan and Veronica written anywhere on them or I'm not going to be responsible for what happens."

Unconcerned, she'd dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

Some of the guests were utilizing the flip-flops including Biscuit who looked ridiculous wearing them with his dress blues. The squad had already taken several pictures of him and the teasing was _merciless_ —'did you go for a pedicure with the bride, pretty feet?' Logan shook his head. Flaky Biscuit was _never_ going to live this down.

Dick had set up the chairs and the aisle runner closer to the restaurant than the surf. It made for a shorter walk for Wyatt and Veronica and it allowed the musicians access to electricity. Despite Veronica's protests — _a radio in the sand, that's beachy, right?_ —they'd hired a guitar player and a pianist, who also sang, for their ceremony music.

The start of the music was his cue and he took his place at the end of the aisle with the judge. _We're really doing this_. Four breakups, nine years of radio silence, and nineteen years, and we're getting _married_.

Mac stepped out of the restaurant carrying a pink-clad Wyatt. She put the baby down and Wy immediately ran back inside. Turning to the guests, Mac offered a slight shrug of apology. A murmur of laughter floated through the air. Before she could reach the restaurant for another attempt, Wy appeared in the doorway carrying her stuffed bunny. The presence of Cuddles elicited a chorus of _'aww'_ from a few of the women and _all_ of Logan's Navy buddies.

Holding her hand, Mac walked her to the end of the aisle, and leaned over to whisper in her ear. Wyatt chewed on the end of her finger and nodded, but her eyes grew wide and she looked terrified when Mac let go of her hand to sit down. Taking a few hesitant steps, she clutched her bunny; the small pomander dangling from her wrist. Her head moved back and forth staring at all the people watching her.

Logan stepped to the side so she could see him and she smiled. "Daddeeee!" There was no more walking for her; she flew down the aisle and threw herself at him. He scooped her up and kissed her nose.

"Good job, Jellybean." Wyatt laid her head on his chest and played with the buttons on his uniform. "Do you want to go sit with Nana Dot?" Burying her face in his lapel, she vehemently shook her head.

The instrumental version of John Legend's _All of Me_ faded and ended and there was a brief pause before the piano started to play. Logan smiled. There was no traditional Wagner's Bridal Chorus for Veronica. Instead, she'd asked Keith to choose a song.

' _I'll take this slow sweet walk with you;_

 _You'll let go of my hand to say I do'_

In a pale gray, vested suit and navy tie, Keith preceded Veronica from the restaurant and waited for her to join him. Logan tensed—

' _And he will discover just how blessed a life can be,_

 _I know because all those years ago someone handed you to me.'_

—And then there she was slipping her hand into the crook of Keith's arm. _Beautiful_.

All the worry and tension evaporated and Logan knew he was grinning like an idiot. His eyes were restless; they roamed over her, memorizing each detail. The simple strapless dress that swirled around her as she walked, the nosegay bouquet of blush and cream mini calla lilies, and the golden waves of her hair cascading over her shoulders joined all his other memories of her. With each step closer, he remembered all the other versions of his Veronica: the tomboy in the soccer uniform, the long-haired pink princess who tolerated his teasing, his bong-planting nemesis, girlfriend, lover, the mother of his child, and today, his wife.

Veronica met his eyes and smiled.

' _I'll take this slow, sweet walk with you.'_

When they reached the end of the aisle, Keith hugged Veronica and she stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Who's your daddy?" It was soft enough for only the three of them to hear.

"You are." Her eyes were glistening.

Keith gave her another squeeze —"I love you, kiddo"— and then turned his watery gaze to Logan. Squeezing his shoulder, Keith shook his hand and then held out his arms for Wyatt. She hesitated and then went with her grandfather.

Veronica stepped closer to Logan and gave him that little half smile of hers and his awareness narrowed only to the woman in front of him. "Ready?" She asked as she smoothed the rumpled lapel of his uniform.

"Since our first kiss."

"Sweet talker," she crooned.

Of their own accord, their bodies drew closer until there was almost no space between them. Logan brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. Then let them fall to her shoulder, lightly graze her arm, and finally twine with hers.

"We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the marriage of Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars."

The judge's words — _all good stories at their heart are love stories. The love between friends, the unconditional love between a parent and child, unrequited love, lost love, romantic love. We try to define it, to explain the extraordinary feeling of being in love, but it defies us. Mere words aren't enough, but we all know love when we see it and today we are lucky enough to see it between Logan and Veronica_ — washed over him.

Logan was too busy concentrating on the feel of Veronica's hand and the rhythm of her thumb as it softly stroked his. Too busy memorizing the tilt of her head and the quick smirk at something the judge said that was probably too sentimental and mushy for her. Closing his eyes, he bent his head to her hair and inhaled the scent of her perfume.

"Will you, Logan Echolls, take Veronica to be your partner from this day forward? To always put her first, to support and believe in her, and to love her unconditionally for the rest of your life?"

"I will."

The judge turned to Veronica and repeated the question. She gave Logan's hand a gentle squeeze. "I will."

Logan brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers.

"Real isn't how you are made; it's a thing that happens to you. When someone loves you for a long time, really loves you, then you become real." Veronica recited her half of the story and then he recited his.

"It doesn't happen all at once; it takes a long time, but once you are real, it lasts for always."

It was time for the rings. Logan slipped the platinum band on her finger and stared at it for a moment. The words and the vows and the promises would all fade, but this was tangible. He would forever be able to see the rings on their fingers and know that they were committed to each other. That today she'd agreed to be his wife. It was as constant as his love for her.

"With this ring I take you to be my husband, my friend, my partner and my love for the rest of this lifetime and whatever comes next." Veronica put the ring on his finger and grinned.

Logan didn't wait for permission. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her off her feet, and kissed her. He was dimly aware of her bouquet landing on his foot as she cradled his head between her palms. The applause and the catcalls and a wolf-whistle from Dick finally made him pull back with a sheepish grin.

Veronica grabbed his hand and they rushed down the aisle amidst a shower of mini beach balls from the guests. Logan batted one away as they ducked inside the restaurant. Once the door closed behind them, she turned to him with a multi-colored beach ball resting in her palm. "Dottie?"

"Probably. Should I have her drawn and quartered?" He snaked his arm around her waist and jerked her to him. "It can be my first official act as your husband."

Now that they were alone, Veronica pulled his mouth down to hers to finish the kiss that had been so rudely interrupted. Seconds bled into minutes and neither of them was in a rush to let the other go. Logan kissed the corners of her mouth; his hands skimming over the silk of her dress, drawing her tighter to him. "Mmm" —she broke the kiss and blinked— "Uh… maybe we can tar and feather her after the photos."

 **XXXX**

After the photos was an interminable amount of time later.

Logan didn't really see the reason for _hundreds_ of pictures; they were all different variations on the same theme. What he wanted was to be alone with his wife — _Veronica's my wife_ —and they still had an entire reception to get through. "Are you sure they can't just celebrate without us?"

" _I'm_ the one who wanted to go to the courthouse; _you're_ the one that wanted all this- so suck it up, Echolls."

"Okay… _Mrs_. Echolls."

She shook her head. "Never gonna happen."

"I think it already did." Logan smiled. He couldn't _stop_ smiling. Taking her hand, they trudged through the sand back toward the restaurant. The best part of the 'wedding photoshoot' was having Veronica by his side and finding new ways to touch her in each picture. Now they would spend the next few hours surrounded by their close friends and relatives and he was going to have to share her. "In fact, I think Nick is about to introduce us as Mr. and Mrs. Echolls."

"He better not," she warned, but her smile softened the threat.

Nick, Dottie's son, was acting as their unofficial DJ. Unofficial because Veronica was very specific about the song list —no _Celebration_ by Kool  & the Gang and no _We are Family_ by Sister Sledge. The Macarena, electric slide, and chicken dance were also forbidden. "You know, for someone who didn't want an actual _wedding_ -wedding, you're very bossy."

"And this is news to you?"

Logan kissed the top of her head. _No, not news; she was bossy with a touch of denial._

Getting married at the courthouse _was_ her idea, but his wasn't an elaborate wedding, it was eloping in Costa Rica. At least it was until he remembered that wedding planning book she'd pulled open at the Sunset Regent hotel when they were looking for his mother. He'd thought it was all part of her engaged-couple-ruse, but some of the clippings were too old to have been hastily added to that photo album. No, the soft, romantic part of Veronica —the one she kept hidden— wanted a wedding.

There were two sets of doors on the side of the restaurant. The one furthest from the beach allowed entry to the private dining area where the cocktail hour was set up and the one closest to the beach opened into the main room where the reception was being held. Logan held open the door with his foot and scooped Veronica up in his arms.

"What are you doing?"

"Carrying you over the threshold," he stated like it was obvious.

"That's to our house; not the reception."

Logan shrugged. "I need to make sure you don't turn and run when you hear Mrs. Echolls."

"I'm not going anywhere" —she fingered the hair at the nape of his neck and then gave it a gentle tug— "Idiot."

"Is this where we come up with affectionate nicknames for each other, snookums?"

She rolled her eyes. "Call me that again and we're getting an annul—"

He swallowed the word with a kiss and carried her into the restaurant.

Nick avoided Veronica's wrath by using Wyatt to introduce them. Kneeling on the floor next to her, he announced: "Now appearing for the first time as husband and wife…"

Then he asked Wyatt who was coming in the door and held the microphone for her response: "Mama! Daddy!"

Her amplified voice startled her and she whirled around toward the speaker completely forgetting about her parents. Squatting in front of it, Wyatt poked the speaker and then pressed her ear against it.

Veronica laughed as Dick tried coaxing her away and Wyatt kept pointing at the speaker: "Make tawk." Finally, Mac hurried over, shook her head at Dick's ineptitude and picked up the baby moving her back before the music could start.

More mini beach balls were scattered across the empty dance floor. Logan kicked them out of his way as he moved to the center and set Veronica on her feet to the opening strains of _After All_.

' _Well, here we are again; I guess it must be fate._

 _We've tried it on our own, but deep inside we've known_

 _We'd be back to set things straight.'_

Logan placed his hand on the small of her back and drew her closer as they started to sway to the ballad. _Our first dance as husband and wife_. "I love you, Veronica."

Tilting her head back, she smiled at him. "I love you too."

' _Every memory repeats; every step I take retreats;_

 _Every journey always brings me back to you.'_

He tightened his hold and brought their joined hands to his mouth to kiss her fingers. "Have I mentioned how beautiful you look today?"

"Just today?"

"Have you seen you in the mornings?"

She playfully scowled at him and he laughed. "Okay, you're beautiful always, but today you're exceptional- breathtaking even."

"For someone who's short on breath, you're still doing a lot of yakking." She removed her arm from his waist and flapped her fingers and thumb together in the _'blah-blah'_ hand gesture.

' _And after all that we've been through,_

 _It all comes down to me and you._

 _I guess it's meant to be- forever you and me, After all.'_

Veronica rested her head on his chest and tucked their joined hands between their bodies. He wanted to stay wrapped up in Veronica for the duration. _We should have picked a longer song_. It didn't need to make sense or have any special meaning; it only needed to last.

The song ended, but Logan kept his arm around her. "I don't want to let you go."

"Don't worry" —she patted his cheek— "after a week of just you and me and the Indian Ocean, you'll be singing a different tune."

"Doubtful." He released her and Veronica grabbed his hand for the walk to their table.

The restaurant was a mix of round six-tops and square four-tops. They were sitting by themselves at a table for four near the windows overlooking the beach. Veronica didn't want formal seating arrangements — _seriously, I'm not coming up with a seating chart_ — but Dick and Dottie insisted it would be easier for serving the main course. There were several emails received on his deployment that ended with lines like: _Dick is going to have to sit outside by himself_ and _can I put my friends from law school near your rowdy pilot buddies?_

A strawberry and arugula salad with goat cheese and toasted walnuts was already waiting for them at their table and a printed menu card rested next to the plate. He arched an eyebrow. "Six courses and mignardises?"

A one-shouldered shrug. "It's Dick's restaurant."

Logan shook his head. Planning the food would _not_ have escaped Veronica's attention. "If you say so," he murmured. "You know, there's this wedding tradition wherein every time someone taps their glass with a spoon" —he toyed with his cutlery— "The bride and groom have to kiss."

"First person who does it gets a spoon up their nose and my foot up—"

She was interrupted by Nick introducing Keith for his father of the bride welcome speech and toast. "Thank you all for coming here tonight to celebrate the marriage of Veronica and Logan and the start of their life together."

Without Grandpa at the table to corral Wyatt, she was out of her seat and on her way to Logan before Keith was done with his opening sentence. Logan picked her up and sat her on his lap. "Hey, Jellybean- what do you have?"

"Ball." She held up one of the mini beach balls before tossing it to the floor. Sliding off his leg, she went to pick it up and then climbed back on Logan's lap only to do it again. He glanced at Dottie who had the courtesy to look thoroughly abashed by her poorly-conceived beach ball plan.

Logan did his best to keep Wyatt entertained and quiet while trying to feed her some of the strawberries from his salad and listen to Keith's toast. He was mostly successful —she'd given up the ball in lieu of fruit— but he hadn't eaten anything and the waiters were already bringing out the soup. Across the table, his wife's plate was empty; nary a walnut to be found. He was tempted to send Wyatt to sit on Mommy's lap, but roasted red bell pepper soup would not look good on her wedding dress.

A smattering of applause and Keith was turning over the microphone to Dick. Veronica's head swiveled in Logan's direction and she leveled him with a killer glare and a scowl. "I tried to stop him, but _Mac_ approved his speech."

"I'll take care of her later," Veronica muttered.

Logan would have to catch Keith's toast on the videotape, but he paid close attention to Dick; he needed to know what he would be apologizing for later.

"Logan dude, thanks for asking me to be your best man—"

"I didn't!" Logan cut in and the crowd laughed.

He resumed his toast and it wasn't too bad- _for Dick_. A few off-color jokes that were a hit at the tables with Logan's 'rowdy pilot buddies,' he mentioned the numerous breakups of the bride and groom without being mean and warned them to "not screw it up" and then hit a sweet note by calling the bride beautiful.

When he raised his glass of champagne, Logan breathed a sigh of relief; he'd made it through relatively unscathed, but then Dick kept talking. From the look on Mac's face, Logan gathered this was not part of the approved speech. _This is what I'll be apologizing for later._

Mac scrambled from her chair and wrested the microphone away from Dick, but the damage was already done. "It's hard to think how I could possibly follow up on that toast from Mr. Casablancas," she began, "But I'm sure gonna try hard."

Wyatt was using a Grissini breadstick as a spoon; first dipping it in his soup and then gnawing at the end of the stick. Each swipe through the bowl got a little wider and a lot messier.

"Now, Logan…"

The use of his name diverted his attention from the potential soup disaster and caused him to focus on Mac's speech. Covering his face with his hand, he groaned. After Dick's toast, he'd been counting on her to leave him alone. _Fat chance_. "Mac, you're killing me here."

A splash of soup on his fingers said Wyatt was done eating her food and was now playing with it. He pried the soggy bread from Wy's fingers, quickly handed her Veronica's untouched breadstick, and pushed his bowl out of reach. She tried climbing across the table in order to reach the soup and Logan plopped her back on his lap.

"And now they have Wyatt…"

At her name, the baby popped the breadstick from her mouth. "Hi Aun'ie Mac!" She waved and slid off Logan's lap clearly thinking the use of her name was an invitation to join Aunt Mac near the magical speakers. Thankfully, they were at the end of the toast and the music resumed before she could run away.

Logan stood. "Let's go visit Grandpa and Nana Dot."

"Wait, I'll come with you." Veronica's spoon clanked against her empty bowl and Logan gave her a wolfish grin. A perplexed frown wrinkled her brow as her gaze moved from him, down to the table, and back. "That doesn't count; it wasn't a glass."

"Close enough." Bending his head, his lips grazed hers.

"You're going to give people ideas."

"The idea that I love you? That's pretty obvious, dontcha think?" Another quick peck on her mouth and he draped his arm around her waist, his hand resting low on her back and his fingers brushing the curve of her ass.

There weren't many tables in the restaurant —ten total, including his and Veronica's— Dick had removed the rest in order to make space for a dance floor so it wouldn't take them long to stop by each. They started at Keith's table with the plan of leaving Wyatt with her grandfather.

Cliff stood. "You crazy kids went and got married." He hugged Veronica and clapped Logan on the back. "Which one of you needs my card?" His eyes roamed over the reception. "What? Is now not a good time for divorce jokes?"

Logan inclined his head toward Veronica. "She can handle her own divorce, but me? I've already got you on speed dial."

"Uh, sorry kid, there's no way I'd go up against Veronica in any court."

"So I should probably just give her all of my money now- is that what you're saying?"

The other man shrugged. "That's the best counsel I could offer- free of charge."

"That was the fastest case I've ever won," Veronica deadpanned.

Keith countered with, "The _only_ case."

Not wanting the conversation to veer toward the serious side of his wife not practicing law, Logan wrangled Wyatt and put her in the recently acquired high chair. He kissed the top of her head. "You stay here with Grandpa and Nana Dot; we'll be right back."

Veronica already met most of the guys from his squad —dropping him off at base for deployment— and she impressed them with her ability to remember all their names. "You deserve a good husband Veronica." Route smirked. "Lucky for Mouth he married you before you could find one."

Leaning her hip against his chair, Veronica gave him a winning smile and draped her arm around his neck. "Route, huh? How'd you get that call sign?"

Logan recognized the gleam in his wife's eyes. _Uh-oh Veronica Mars is in detective mode_. Route launched into his story about his first solo flight out of NAS Kingsville in a T-45 Goshawk. "When the instrument panel goes dead and I realize I'm fucked; I have no idea how to get back."

Her eyes widened and she leaned in closer, giving the impression that she was totally captivated by his story. Not realizing the trap she'd set, Route hammed it up for her. "When suddenly the sky clears and Route 77 appears beneath me like a sign from heaven."

"Did you land on the _road_?" Logan rolled his eyes at both Veronica's breathy delivery of the question and Route's over-the-top theatrics.

"No ma'am, I couldn't endanger all those people's lives."

Logan smirked. _A real American hero_. Route explained how he locked onto the wide interstate and followed the _life-saving_ concrete stretch of road back to the _safety_ of base. "The duty officer was impressed and I've been Route ever since."

"Wow, that's amazing. I bet the story behind Logan's call sign isn't half as interesting?" She waited expectantly and Route opened his mouth to comply with her unspoken request.

"Uh, Veronica?" She frowned at Logan's interruption. "We need to move this along, they're taking dinner orders." Taking her hand, he gave it a gentle tug; she pouted at him, but let him lead her away from the table.

"You know I'm going to find out, right?"

"Maybe one day, but not today." He jerked his chin toward the table with her law school friends and her Stanford roommate, Tracey. "What embarrassing Veronica stories do they have to tell me?"

"There are none."

"Hmm… we'll see."

"Please… like you could get them to divulge their secrets. While I, on the other hand, was this close" —she held up her thumb and forefinger with a sliver of space between— "To getting Route to spill all your secrets; he was on the hook and I was just reeling him in."

"Really? My clever wife has resorted to using fishing analogies? Is marriage dulling your wit already?"

"If I had any wit, I wouldn't have married you."

They briefly stopped at the table with her friends and then headed back to their own. The wait staff was clearing their untouched carnaroli risotto with truffles and parmesan and Veronica stopped them. "My husband hasn't eaten anything yet."

The waitress returned the plate and asked for their main course selections. He chose the filet mignon with bordelaise sauce and Veronica requested the same plus the chicken paillard with pancetta and sage _and_ the tilapia with the cilantro walnut pesto. She shrugged. "I want to taste them all."

"Just taste?"

"Taste, eat – same thing."

He chuckled. "I love you, Veronica Mars."

Pausing with her fork in midair, she tapped it on the side of her water glass, puckered her lips, and leaned over the table. Logan met her halfway and kissed her adding a loud, lip-smacking sound effect that turned some heads. "You're a jerk," she said it with a laugh.

"Thanks, honeybunch?" She shook her head. "Doll face?"

"Eat," Veronica pointed at his plate.

"Okay, Bobcat."

They ate their risotto and then resumed their table visits while dinner was being served. Trina was out on the dance floor with Dottie's son, Patrick, and Nick was busy with the music, leaving his girlfriend alone at the table. Logan asked her to dance while Veronica took Dick's empty seat next to Mac at the Mackenzie's table. His wife's first words to her friend were: "Approved Dick's toast, huh?" And Logan danced Melanie away from the fallout.

When the song ended, Veronica met him on the edge of the dance floor and they stopped at the last two tables. Logan had hung out with Darrell at Wallace's apartment, but he'd never met Alicia Fennel —Alicia _Jameson_ — before now. Veronica introduced them. "Congratulations," she addressed the word to Logan, but enveloped Veronica in a warm hug. "You look happy."

"I am," Veronica assured the older woman.

"And your daughter is beautiful."

Wyatt was making her own table rounds trying to collect as many beach balls as she could carry. Logan let his eyes follow her progress. She dumped her pile and plopped to the floor in the center of them laughing. _Okay maybe the beach balls weren't such a bad idea._ Anything that could make his daughter that happy was fine by him.

"—signed, sealed, and delivered." The end of Wallace's sentence refocused his attention.

"I'm yours," Logan quipped.

"Not in front of your wife, man." Wallace grinned. "I mean, I know I'm irresistible, but you two _just_ got married."

"I don't know whose ego is worse, yours" —Veronica eyeballed Wallace and then glanced at Logan— "Or my husband's."

It was the second time in a span of an hour that she'd referred to him as her husband and Logan loved hearing it. There was a possessive sound to it — _my husband_ — like she was staking her claim to him. He kissed her shoulder, wrapped his arms around her waist and fitted her back against his chest. "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

Turning her head, she placed her palm on his cheek and kissed him.

On their way to the final table, he asked her about Wallace's _signed, sealed and delivered_ comment. "The marriage license, he was our official witness."

"Good choice."

They'd decided to not have bridal attendants in part because it was too traditional for them, but also because it was too hard to choose a best man and a maid of honor —Wallace, Mac, Dick, and Jake— were all too important to them.

Dinner was already served at Weevil's table and he was mid-bite when Logan and Veronica sidled up to his chair. "Easy there Weevs, it's not chow time in the joint."

"Really? It tastes just the same."

Logan opened his mouth to offer a rejoinder and Veronica hip-checked him. Exchanging insults was the way of his relationship with Weevil so he didn't understand her warning until he saw the frown of disapproval on Jade's face. Logan offered a bland:"Thank you for coming; are you having a good time?"

Jade gave him a tight smile. "Congratulations." Her bitter inflection on the word wasn't missed by anyone at the table including Weevil.

Veronica made their excuses — _we'll leave you to eat_ — and they skedaddled back to the sanctuary of their own table. "They did _not_ look like a reconciled couple."

Logan shook his head as he cut into his steak. "Not for lack of trying on Weevil's part; I'm surprised she agreed to come with him."

"Me too."

His gaze drifted from the sad Valentina to Wyatt at the table with Keith. She was eating a gooey grilled cheese prepared especially for her by Uncle Richard and pulling apart the bread in search of a slice of bacon. "Just like her Mommy."

"Huh?" Logan nodded toward their daughter. "That's not like me at all- what a waste of cheese."

"So cheese takes priority over bacon on your food list?" _Doubtful_.

Tilting her head, she considered the question. "Okay, you're right, bacon has a slight edge." She was alternating bites between her three plates. "I think the chicken is my favorite."

"Maybe you should lick the plate to be sure."

"That remark cost you a taste."

"There's something else at this table I'd rather eat."

"Logan!" Her cheeks turned the same color as the inside of his rare filet and he chuckled. A bobcat in the bedroom, but he could still make her blush in public. It was just another thing he loved about her. His wife was a study in contrasts.

"Dow!" Wyatt was wriggling in her high chair. She turned pleading eyes to Logan and held out her arms. "Daddy."

Logan crossed to her table with his napkin, squatted next to the high chair, and started to clean her sticky fingers. "Hey, Jellybean, are you done eating?"

Her eyes fell to her plate and her mangled grilled cheese. "Me eat."

It didn't look like _me_ had eaten anything, but he couldn't tell from the state of her sandwich. "Do you want some of Daddy's steak?" Logan lifted her out of the chair. "That is, if Mommy hasn't finished it already."

Dottie passed him her diaper bag. "Wet naps are in the side pocket and the baby monitor's in there when you're ready to put her down."

"Thanks."

Since the evening was going to run late and extend past her bedtime, Keith and Dottie had set up a portable crib in Dick's office-cum-bridal-suite. Logan wasn't thrilled with the idea —too many strangers working in the restaurant— but he wasn't going to ask anyone to leave early to watch his daughter.

On his way back to Veronica, the soft dinner music faded and Nick was on the microphone. "And now it's time for the father-daughter dance, Keith, Veronica, the floor is yours."

"I'm still chewing," his wife softly complained before dabbing at her mouth with a napkin and standing. She placed her hand on Wyatt's head, kissed Logan's cheek, and went to join her dad on the dance floor.

Remaining on his feet, he rocked Wyatt, and watched Keith dance with his daughter. Veronica beamed at her dad and Logan's own words came back to him — _I look at you and your dad, you know, that thing that you have_ — and they still had it. No matter the struggles or the hardships or the disappointments, their bond was the same. _I never had that_.

"One day that will be you and Wyatt."

Logan glanced down at his sister. "I hope so." He kissed the top of Wyatt's head. One day he wanted to be able to dance with his daughter on her wedding day and for Wyatt to look at him with the same love and admiration that were shining in Veronica's eyes.

"You're…" Trina's voice faltered. "She's lucky to have you." His sister gently stroked Wyatt's hair and then lightly squeezed his arm before walking away. Logan's gaze flicked to the dance floor and then back to his sister as he contemplated following her. She looked sad, but comforting each other had never been their thing and what could he really say to make this moment easier for her?

Applause signaled the end of the father-daughter dance and he moved toward his wife. Veronica offered him a small smile and shook her head to halt his progress. He watched his wife kick off her shoes and resume dancing with her dad.

Wyatt squirmed in his arms. "Dow," she said while pointing to the ground.

Reluctantly, Logan put her down and she immediately sat on the carpet to tug off her shoes. He rescued the tiny Mary Janes before she could toss them away and slipped them in his pocket. Grabbing his pant legs, Wyatt pulled herself up and settled her tiny feet on his shoes in imitation of her mother and grandfather. "Want to dance with Daddy, Jellybean?"

Her head bobbed up and down. Logan took her hands and danced with his daughter in the small space between the tables. Gripping his thumbs tight, Wyatt smiled up at him — _I have it now_ — and then she yawned.

"Sleepy Bean." Logan scooped her into his arms and cradled her against him continuing their dance. "I love you Wyatt."

"Love Daddy," she mumbled into his chest as she struggled to stay awake.

Logan kissed the crown of her head and smiled. Rocking her close, he could feel her limbs grow heavy as she lost the battle and drifted off to sleep. He picked up the diaper bag, skirted the dance floor and walked his way through the room to Dick's office.

After settling Wyatt in the Graco crib with Cuddles, he covered her with a blanket and watched for a moment to make sure she wouldn't wake. Then he confirmed that the baby monitor was on and that the door to the beach was locked. He frowned at the door and then shoved Dick's desk in front of it.

Practically everyone was on the dance floor when he returned to the main dining room. His wife was dancing with Wallace, Trina was back on the floor this time with Jake instead of Patrick, and Keith was dancing with Dottie close to Alicia and her husband, Miles.

Logan passed by his table. His steak was gone and in its place was a wide flat plate of various cheeses—blue cheese with fresh figs, brie paired with dark, sweet cherries, aged cheddar with tart apple slices— and a loaf of still-warm French bread. With one last longing look at his food, he kept moving and headed out for the dance floor to rescue Jake from Trina.

When she spotted him, Trina stopped mid-sentence, and gushed, "Oh Logan."

Relief washed over Jake's face as he hastily stepped aside to let Logan dance with his sister.

"Jake was just telling me about his call sign."

Logan quickly disabused her of the faulty origin Jake gave for his call sign and then grinned when he heard the next song selection. It was a fast dance, which got them both moving and laughing with little time for conversation. As the song ended, Trina latched on to Dick and Logan silently chuckled at his friend's deer-in-headlights expression as Logan backed away toward the bar, his eyes scanning the room for his new wife.

A long table was placed by the nearby wall and waiters were carrying trays of dessert from the kitchen and artfully arranging them on the linen-covered surface. Logan spotted Veronica just in time to see her almost stumble. He followed her sight line to an overflowing platter of cannolis and he smiled. _Dick may have redeemed himself for his toast_.

Logan did a double-take to the dance floor. Wallace was no longer Veronica's partner. Abandoning his position, Logan wove his way through the dancing couples. As he drew closer to Jake and Veronica, he could hear their conversation over the music.

"We're a few weeks in to OCS and we're at this bar in Newport —The Pelham—and there's a table of women, five of them and they are—"

Logan tapped his shoulder. "I'd like to dance with my wife now."

Veronica flashed him a saccharine-sweet smile. "We're good here, Boo; why don't you go dance with your sister again?"

 _Boo?_ "I don't think so… Pookie," he protested.

"Anyway, these women are Helens," Jake continued his story as he danced Veronica away from Logan. "Well, I was completely faced so they might not have been _that_ hot. What about it, Mouth?"

Logan moved across the floor with them. "Why don't you tell Veronica about your _own_ call sign and leave me out of it?"

"Nothing to tell." Jake waved him away. "It's Ch—."

"You know that's not what it means." Logan interrupted, rolling his eyes.

This time, Veronica took the lead and danced Jake away from Logan and his constant interruptions. With a resigned sigh, Logan headed back to their table. This was entirely Jake's fault. Veronica was perfectly content believing that his call sign was given because of his penchant for talking too much and then Jake went and ruined things by correcting her at Christmas. Jake did not appreciate how determined and dogged Veronica could be when she wanted to know something.

The song ended and, from the disappointment washing over Veronica's face, Jake didn't have a chance to finish the story. But, her disappointment was short-lived when Nick announced it was time for cake. Once the dance floor cleared, a waiter started to wheel out the cake on an antique, drop leaf tea cart.

It was a three-tiered cake and each level was separated with an ivory band. The words "old and new, past and present" were written across the ivory band in an elegant script. Logan took Veronica's hand and they walked around the cake together. Black and white photos covered the sides of the cake. It was their story in photographs.

The bottom layer had baby Veronica and toddler Logan; a picture of them together when they were teenagers; Veronica with Lilly; the fab four at Homecoming; Veronica in her soccer uniform; yearbook photos, and high school graduation. The middle layer was Stanford and law school and OCS and his winging ceremony. And the top layer was their family- various stills of them with Wyatt.

Veronica buried her face in his arm and he knew she was crying. Logan squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. He dawdled with the knife to give her a moment. "Are you ready?"

Nodding, she took a step back, wiped her eyes and smiled at him. They cut the first slice of cake and he transferred it to a plate. Logan handed her a fork.

"Uh, I think you go first."

He shook his head and picked up his fork. "Together."

They fed each other a bite of the chocolate raspberry cake. Then Logan pulled her flush against him and kissed her, indulging in the sweetness that was Veronica. _My wife._

Nick turned the music back on and encouraged everyone to join the bride and groom on the dance floor. Logan had no idea if they actually followed his instructions because he only had eyes for Veronica. "Today was perfect."

A smile tugged at her mouth. "It's not over yet."

"You mean we have to stay?"

"Until the very last dance," she confirmed.

"As you wish." Logan bowed and she rolled her eyes. "You have no idea how much I wanted the judge to say _'mawwaige is what bwings us togevah today'_."

Veronica laughed. "You would."

"And did you know there's a church of The Dude? It's the church of the latter-day Dude."

"Get out." She playfully swatted his arm.

"I'm serious." He twirled her around the floor. "I was going to have Dick get ordained as a Dudeist priest to perform the ceremony."

"This is not 'Nam, it's a wedding, there are rules." She grinned. "And one of those is that the bride gets to sample every dessert on that table over there."

"Is that a hint?"

"Too subtle?" Logan danced her over to the dessert table where she preceded to hand him a plate. "For my overflow."

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm going to let that slide in the presence of all this yummy goodness."

Weevil cut his way into the line next to them. "Never thought I'd see this day," Weevil teased, "but I'm glad I did. I'm happy for you, V."

Veronica hugged her friend. Logan nodded at him and then stepped back to give them a moment, listening as Weevil bade them goodbye. His new wife looked a little disappointed that her friend was leaving early, but Logan understood. He offered his own thanks for Weevil's attendance and then waved an empty plate at Veronica, tempting her back to the overladen table of desserts.

True to her word, she took one of every pastry, cookie, tart, and cannoli. She sampled as they started walking back to their table. "Be a good husband and get me some coffee would ya?"

He did her bidding and went to get them both coffee, but their table was empty when he returned. His eyes immediately found her across the room talking with Wallace. Setting down the demitasse cups, he stole a cannoli from the plate she'd left behind, and looked around the restaurant. People were getting ready to go —saying goodbye to their dinner companions, gathering their things— and, despite his complaints, he was sad to see the evening end.

Trina was alone at her table. He popped a cookie in his mouth and made his way to her chair. "One more dance, before you leave, Sis?"

She gladly accepted his offer, and they moved to the center of the floor just as Nick changed the music. Logan gave a wry smile at both the song choice and the way his sister could deliver an unintentional insult under the guise of helpful commentary. Their relationship was about as uneven as the tempo of the music. Starting over wasn't the easiest thing to do when every shared memory was tinged with anger or resentment or pain. But he loved his sister and he told her so as their dance came to an end.

Logan made his way to Veronica. She'd twisted her hair into a messy bun leaving her neck bare for his fingers to explore. She swatted his hand away at the same time as she leaned into his side. Logan draped his arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer and kissing her temple.

Wallace gagged. "You two acting like newlyweds is my cue to bounce."

Veronica punched his arm and then hugged him. Logan couldn't hear what she whispered in Wallace's ear, but it made them both grin.

After saying their goodbyes to the Fennells, Logan took her hand for the walk to their table. The journey was interrupted several times by people coming to say goodbye. Her friends, the Mackenzies, and then the guys from his squad. Logan held out her chair. "I'm going to check on the baby; do you want me to get you anything?"

She eyed the empty spaces on her dessert plate and Logan bit the inside of his mouth to keep from commenting. _Of course, she would notice the missing cannoli and cookie_. "No, I think I'm good," she said with a certain amount of reluctance.

Logan rubbed the back of her neck, kissed her shoulder, and went to Dick's office to check on Wyatt.

The baby was scrunched up in the corner of the crib sleeping on her stomach with her butt in the air. The blanket was twisted and pushed in the opposite corner. Cuddles was clutched in the crook of her arm. Logan shook out the blanket and covered her.

He encountered Dick on his way back to the reception. "That cake was… amazing. Thanks, man."

Dick hugged him. "Anything for you and Ronnie, dude."

"Our last dance is a special request by the bride for her husband."

At Nick's announcement, Logan looked over his shoulder in search of Veronica. She was waiting alone in the center of the dance floor, crooking her finger and beckoning him forward. "Gotta go, my wife needs me."

As he reached her side, Bill Medley's baritone came through the speakers and filled the restaurant: _Now I've had the time of my life; no, I've never felt like this before; yes, I swear it's the truth and I owe it all to you_.


	2. KEITH by Scandalpants

**KEITH by Scandalpants**

Keith opened his eyes and wondered at the patterned quilt above his head. Small hands pressed against his stomach, followed by large blue eyes in an elfin face looking down at him. "Bacon," Wyatt said with utter clarity.

As the rest of him came awake Keith also recognized the smell of bacon. And coffee, blessed coffee. "Bacon to you, too."

"Up, Gwampa." Little fingers closed around his and Wyatt pulled with all she had – futile since she was not only minuscule but sitting on top of him.

Keith shifted to get up on an elbow and winced at the pain in his back. In every atom of his body, to be honest. Spending the night on the floor to entertain a toddler was definitely going on the "Don't" list.

"Up, Gwampa," Wyatt said again, more insistent.

"Go find Nana Dot, sweetie. She'll give you bacon."

Wyatt hopped off him and took off toward the kitchen. Keith lay there a little longer debating the merits of rolling so he could get on his knees or – or nothing. That was the only game plan that held merit.

"Keith, are you awake?"

"Yes." Abandoning all dignity Keith groaned his way onto his belly, then crawled out of the blanket fort. "Explain why Logan needed us to take Wyatt the night _before_ the wedding?"

"Be nice. He just got back."

The dining chair used to support one end of their makeshift tent helped to get him off the floor. One painful movement at a time. "He's been back two weeks," he grunted out.

"During which they've been busy planning the wedding and Wyatt's been glued to Logan's side. She's even sleeping with them at night."

Mornings are usually Keith's best time, mood-wise. Today he's cranky – cranky like an old man who hasn't had his coffee and spent the night sleeping on a hardwood floor. "So what? Veronica did the same thing at that age."

"Do you really need me to explain to you," Dottie asked while walking backward toward the kitchen, her eyes shining with evil amusement, "why a young couple wanted some time alone? Because I will."

He limped after her, wincing at the pain that shot from his sciatica. From the doorway he could see Wyatt in her highchair, trying to use her bacon as a spoon for the cut-up eggs Dottie had made her. He slowly worked his way to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. "You've been working just as hard on this wedding as they have. If anyone needed a night off, it's you."

"It's not work if you love doing it." She frowned over her shoulder at him while cutting a melon into tiny pieces. "What's gotten into you today? I'd almost think you weren't happy for them."

"I am happy," he grumbled. The coffee slipped smoothly down his throat. He breathed in the hot, fragrant fumes and felt, at least a little bit, restored.

Wyatt tipped her head back and guzzled a sippy cup. When she caught him watching, she grinned and milk oozed out both sides of her mouth. The move was equally as appealing as it was gross and he grinned back, charmed.

 _Working your wiles already, huh kid?_

"Mmm hmm." Dottie cut more cantaloupe, this time into large chunks. When she didn't turn around and her voice became wary, Keith paid attention. "Does it bother you, Keith, that she's marrying L-O-G-A-N?"

"What?" He set down his cup and came up behind her, to rest his chin on her shoulder. "No, you were right. He's grown up a lot. He stepped up with Wyatt and, I have to say, I can't imagine anyone making my daughter happier."

"So, no more complaining about last night?"

"Oh no. I'm still grumpy with L-O-G-A-N about that," he laid a kiss on her neck and worked his arms around her waist, careful to put his back toward the high chair. "As much as I love Wyatt, I'm a much happier man when I wake up with _you_ by my side."

"Oh. _Oh_ ," she laughed and pushed his hands down. "Not in front of Wyatt. Get a bowl for the melon, will you?"

"Lelon!"

Keith accepted the piece of cantaloupe Dottie held out as a peace offering and followed it with a soft kiss. The sweet juice on both their lips added an interesting element. "Yum."

"Lelon," Wyatt repeated, more insistent this time.

"Yes, lelon," Keith answered, his eyes still on Dottie's. Between them lingered a promise for later. "Why don't you go get ready? Take your time – Trina and Jake won't be here for a while."

"Okay, I will. Do you need something for your back?"

While Dottie took off her apron he scraped the small pieces of 'lelon' onto Wyatt's tray before her feet kicking turned into a full-on fit. The kid took her food seriously, not unlike Veronica at that age. Or any age.

"No, it'll work itself out."

"Like Logan?" she teased, forgetting to spell the name out this time.

"Daddy!" Wyatt threw down the melon she had clenched in her fist and pushed at the tray in front of her. "Want Daddy!"

Keith's shoulders shook with silent laughter as Dottie blanched. "Yes, like Logan. Go get ready. I've got her."

Dottie slunk away while Keith scooped up Wyatt and deposited her by the sink. The swift change of venue did nothing to deter her as she wriggled to get off the counter. "Daddy, Gwampa. Want Daddy!"

"Daddy's sleeping, Wyatt. Shhh."

She stilled and pressed a finger to her lips. " 'leep? Shhh."

"Yep, and if Daddy's sleeping he can't see me give you," rooting around in the cupboard over the child's head, Keith pulled out the box he'd stashed up there in case this happened, "cake."

With a conspiratorial spirit that dated back to the very first grandparent and grandchild, Keith and Wyatt shared the forbidden morning treat. By the time he was washing frosting from between her fingers she'd forgotten all about Logan.

 **XXXX**

 _To: Keith_

 _From: Veronica_

 _12:10pm Rascal Flatts' 'My Wish'?_

Keith read the text, shook his head, and grinned. The girl was a pest.

 _To: Veronica_

 _From: Keith_

 _12:11pm Country? Now you're just sounding desperate._

The nervousness on Logan's face when Keith entered the men's salon finished the job of improving his mood. He pondered a few tried and true lines to reassure the poor sucker, but Logan went for his shave before there was a chance. No matter. A man deserved a few butterflies on his wedding day.

As the hot towel was wrapped around Keith's face, he reflected that what he'd told Dottie this morning was true. At first he'd blamed Veronica's choices on Logan; she did walk away from a lucrative job offer to help him out. Then, when Logan left on deployment, Veronica abandoned all plans to be a lawyer and came up pregnant. Unmarried and pregnant.

He hadn't given Logan full shrift until well after Wyatt was born. Dottie's protectiveness of the kid didn't exactly help as it gave Keith one more reason to resent him. Yet, with time, he'd come to appreciate that Logan was no longer the boy he'd once known; he'd become a man. One with a smart mouth but who was also an intelligent, caring man fiercely devoted to his family, even at the cost of his own career ambitions.

Yes, he'd made his peace with Logan.

Later, as Keith let himself into the hotel room and heard humming, he had reason to reconsider that. He wasn't just okay with Logan's reemergence in Veronica's life, he was grateful. Without Logan there would be no Dottie. Dottie who'd brought love into his life when he'd thought he was well past the point of ever loving again.

"That was fast," she commented as she rooted through a suitcase. Her dress hung in the closet and the sun behind her created interesting shadows in the white slip she wore. "I didn't expect you for another hour."

"In and out; that's what happens when you go for a shave with four peach-fuzzed boys."

"Two of those _boys_ ," she said as she sat down and held out her leg to work on one-half of a pair of stockings, "fly thirty-million dollar fighter jets for our country. Age should make you wise, not smug."

He didn't respond, too distracted by the sight of her snapping the stocking into place. The pose revived a thousand fantasies culled from years of watching classic films, and he made a mental note to give her more reasons to dress up in their future.

"How was the barber shop, anyway? Veronica said…" her voice trailed off as she looked up from ruching up the second stocking. "Keith, what is it?"

"I was just thinking." He crouched in front of her and took the stocking from her hand. She complied when he lifted her foot to his knee and went about dressing her. The silk was like a whisper in his hand.

"About how lucky I am. My daughter is here, where I can see her every day. I have the most adorable grandchild in the world. And I met you. It feels like all of the pieces have come together, exactly the way they were supposed to."

"You should tell Logan and Veronica that sometime."

"They'll hear it when I give my speech today. Right now I'm telling you." Though the bits of rubber snapped right into place he kept possession of Dottie's leg. "I'm a very happy man. You've _made_ me a very happy man."

Her eyes grew soft as she smiled at him. "You've made me happy, too," she whispered as her hands cupped his jaw. She gasped. "Oh my, that is _smooth._ "

"The better to kiss you with, my dear."

"Hmmm. They say the proof is in the pudding."

With such a clear invitation, Keith crooked his hand behind her knees and pulled her close. She met him halfway, her eyes closing a half beat before his did.

Dottie ended the kiss moments later by laughing and running their cheeks against each other's. "I _like_ that. You smell good, too."

"Sandalwood with a hit of orange spice, the barber said."

"Orange is a spice?"

"On me, anything is a spice."

She laughed and used her heels to kick his hips. "There you go, getting smug again."

"You know it. How long until you have to leave to set up the reception?"

"Well," she craned her neck to look at the clock. "At least an hour. Why?"

"I know something else that makes you happy."

She blushed prettily at the bawdy suggestion Keith whispered in her ear and pulled him up onto the bed with her. "Mr. Mars, once again I have to remind you the proof is in the pudding."

 **XXXX**

The sound of a phone woke him up. Before leaving with Nick and Wyatt, Dottie had encouraged him to take a nap and ordered a wakeup call so he'd be on time to shower and dress. She'd refused all his offers to help her set up the wedding, insisting she had plenty of minions in the form of her sons and the wait staff.

As he drove to Dick's restaurant and took up space in a corner while Dottie directed everyone, Keith wondered if he should have taken a more active role in planning the wedding. Not that he'd had an opportunity. Logan and Veronica were adamant about what they wanted and Dottie had become an integral part of pulling that off. After the three of them divided duties and put Dick in charge of food, they'd left Keith with nothing to do, not even pay for the damn thing.

 **XXXX**

" _Veronica, I am your father. It's my job to pay for the wedding."_

 _She shook her head, opened the camera bag, and pulled out a long-range lens to clean it. "There's really nothing to pay for, Dad. Dick's taking care of the venue and food, Nick's DJing, you already got the permits to close the street, and the florist and photographer are working in trade."_

" _Matt and Jeremy?" When she nodded Keith let out a quiet laugh. The two men had come separately to Mars Investigations, each convinced their partner was cheating. One spoke to Keith and the other to Veronica, who'd failed to compare clients until they'd stumbled across each other on a stakeout. "I thought we agreed not to charge them?"_

" _We did," she shrugged. "But they didn't feel right about it so we came up with this deal instead."_

" _Seems generous, given neither one of them was actually having an affair._ _Marriage lesson number one: plan your anniversary vacation together instead of each of you sneaking around to put together a big surprise." Keith rubbed his forehead in thought. "Still, Veronica, I should pay them."_

" _Yeah I, um, might have mentioned the reception would be crawling with Navy fighter pilots. They were practically offering to pay_ me _just to get the job."_

" _Okay, but how about your dress? At least let me buy your dress."_

" _Already bought." She moved his hand and kissed his forehead. "If you really want to help you can pick our songs."_

" _Our songs?"_

" _Yes, two. I don't want the traditional wedding march when you walk me up the aisle – something low key would be great. And then there's the father-daughter dance."_

" _Easy." He rubbed his hands together and opened them, to indicate he was ready to take more of the work from her. "Give me something else to do."_

" _Trust me that's enough. You have no idea how much music I've been through in the past week. Every time I think I'm done Nick or Logan send me something else."_

" _But I'm already done. Edwin McCain's 'Walk With You'. I heard it on the radio the other day and got this mental image of giving you away."_

 _She scowled and went to pack the camera back up. "Archaic."_

" _Fine," Keith waved his hand in agreement. "For when I escort you up the aisle."_

" _Okay. What about for when we dance?"_

" _You'll see."_

" _Wait, what? No fair. It's my wedding. You have to tell me."_

" _Let me pay you back for your dress and I will."_

" _What if I guess it?"_

" _Impossible."_

" _But if I do?"_

" _Then I'll tell you."_

 **XXXX**

It was silly but through this small way Keith felt connected and involved in this big event in his daughter's life. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing during the past two weeks, he'd received texts at the oddest times. Like now when she was supposed to be getting ready.

 _To: Keith_

 _From: Veronica_

 _5:03pm Rob Thomas' 'Little Wonders'?_

 _To: Veronica_

 _From: Keith_

 _5:03pm Who's Rob Thomas?_

"Gwampa!" Wyatt ran at him and Keith scooped her up, tucking away his phone.

"Oh, Keith," Dottie smiled, relieved. She placed a flower in his lapel. "Could you watch her? She's getting restless in the bride's room."

"I can do that."

Entertaining Wyatt in the middle of all the goings on was no small feat; they seemed to be underfoot at every turn. A sympathetic waitress brought Keith a bar tray covered in packets of sugar, Equal, and Sweet-N-Low and little glass dishes. Soon Wyatt's repetition of "Pink" "Boo" and "Ite" lulled him as she sorted the small papers into the dishes by color.

Just as Wyatt became bored, Dottie came through and ushered everyone outside to take their seats. She whisked the baby away so fast that neither noticed Wyatt had dropped her stuffed bunny, Cuddles. He took an odd comfort in the animal as he waited in the quiet restaurant for Veronica.

Finally Mac and Wyatt left the bride's room, improvised from Dick's office, and rushed outside. A moment later Wyatt came racing back and, realizing the problem, Keith handed her Cuddles.

The sound of 'awwws' from outside made him smile, until he turned around and saw Veronica standing there. With the dress, her hairstyle, and bouquet she was a manifestation of the perfect bride. None of it mattered – not set against the glowy look of happiness on her face. She could walk out there in jeans and nobody would blink. "Hey, Dad."

Keith placed his hand over his heart, "Wow."

"You look rather dapper yourself."

"Nah, I just clean up nice. But you, it's like someone served up the sun and you swallowed it whole."

Amusement crossed her face and she laughed. "Is that a good thing?"

"It's a great thing." Keith tucked her arm in his and walked her to the door to wait for their cue. "I had this whole spiel planned, to give you a last chance to back out. It was very elaborate – involving hiding in trunks and fake passports. Now I don't think it's needed."

"Did it involve taking Logan with me?" When Keith shook his head Veronica kissed his cheek. "Then no dice."

Through the walk up the aisle and the ceremony Veronica never lost that look of utter joy. Keith barely heard the words she and Logan spoke to each other, too caught up in their delight.

Watching them made him happy, but also a little nostalgic for his little girl. As her dad, it was a strange thing to accept- this other man loving his daughter. It was Logan who would be there to protect her and stand by her through everything life threw at them. Keith knew his place was now on the sidelines -a mere spectator- but it was the proper order of things and he trusted Logan. He was no longer a reckless kid. He would protect her, but also allow her the freedom to be her own person.

Keith chuckled to himself. Allow. No one allowed Veronica to do anything. His daughter had a mind of her own and Logan was the only one of her boyfriends who seemed to love her more for it.

When Logan lifted Veronica off her feet and kissed her in a way her father should never see, Keith cheered as hard as the rest of the crowd. He helped Wyatt throw mini beach balls as her parents ran up the aisle and lifted her over his head in celebration. "Can you say 'yay', Wyatt?"

"Yay!"

"Good girl."

 **XXXX**

"And now it's time for the father daughter dance. Keith, Veronica, the floor is yours." Nick's overplayed DJ voice pulled Keith away from talking to Cliff about the Padres' chances in the next season. His eyes met Veronica's as they moved across the room toward the middle of the floor.

"Elvis' 'There's Always Me," she guessed.

"Honey," Keith winked at her, "when have I ever been that predictable?" His right hand slid around her back while his left lifted hers in the traditional dance pose. The weight of her palm against his shoulder accompanied the shift while she tightened her frame, as he'd taught her so many years ago. A beautiful croon filled the room.

 _The night was clear and the moon was yellow_

 _And the leaves came tumbling down_

"What?!" Veronica complained over the words. "Since when is 'Stagger Lee' a father-daughter song?"

"Since I taught you to dance to it when you were a scrawny little brat," he reminded her.

"I was not scrawny," she spoke over him. "And you cheated – the rules say the song requires schmaltz."

"Since when do we follow the rules?"

Her impish smile, the one he liked to pretend she saved just for him, grew large. She rose up to rest her cheek against his and whispered, "Never."

"Just like I taught you, okay?" With her nod they picked up on the faster beat and the audience faded away. For the next two minutes Keith led his daughter across the floor. Led her the way she hadn't let him do for years, in any form.

As he spun her out he saw again the little sprite in pigtails and blue jean shorts. Her knees were scabby and her feet tanned in a funny pattern from the sandals she wore all that summer but, to Keith, she was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Twenty years had done nothing but realize that beauty. The woman twirling at his direction was a stunner in every sense of the word. Even better, she was smart, confident, and competent with a generous heart – everything Keith had wanted for her since the day she was born.

Time had a funny way of slipping around when you got older, as did resentments and regrets. For one moment, he yearned for Lianne as there was no one else with whom to revel in the one thing they did right.

When the last chords faded out, Veronica fell against him in a hug he returned, perhaps too ferociously. The sound of whoops and claps from their audience made a faint buzz and Keith could only shrug when she pulled back to run a thumb under his eye. "Not bad for an old man," she laughed.

"Who you calling old?" The euphonious tones of Betty Everett flowed from the speakers and couples filled the floor around them. Keith saw Logan move in their direction, Wyatt on his arm. He let Veronica go, albeit with reluctance, and nodded in their direction "I think someone wants you."

Veronica turned until she saw her husband and shook her head with a minuscule smile of apology that made him stop several feet away. When she kicked off her shoes Keith looked down at her with concern. "Feet hurt?"

"Nope," she answered and placed his hand on her back once again. When she gripped his other hand in hers and stepped on his feet he knew what she was about. "I'm dancing with my dad."

Veronica kept her head on his shoulder as he floated her around the floor. Under his chin was the indefinable fragrance in that spot on the top her head, the same as it'd been since he tucked her into a white-spindled crib at night. He closed his eyes and trusted the small space they occupied would remain theirs for the next few moments.

It was only when Veronica whispered, "Pssst," that he opened them. At the edge of the dance floor Wyatt sat down and pulled off her shoes. As they watched, she handed them to Logan, who tucked them into his jacket pocket and waited as she settled herself on top of his feet. Wyatt's head tilted so far as she looked up that, without her grip on her daddy's thumbs, she'd fall over backward.

"You've got a good man there," Keith got out around the lump in his throat. "Take care of each other."

Veronica raised her head and looked at him. "That's it? That's your sage advice to your daughter on her wedding day?"

He chuckled and dipped her while he teased, "How about 'don't go to bed angry'?"

"Now you're just getting trite. Give me something I can work with."

"Okay," he offered when he brought her back up and she regained her place on his feet. "What about this, smarty pants? Tailor-made for you. Sometimes, for the good of a marriage, you have to let the other person be right - even when they're not."

That one put a hiccup in her step and they bumped into Mr. Clemmons and his wife, whom Keith was pretty sure Logan invited as a joke. Veronica ignored the other couple, shook her head at Keith, and relaxed in his arms so they could finish the dance. "You know what I love about that?"

"What?"

"Someday Logan and I will be in a fight and I'll remember this moment. I'll remember and smile, and tell him he's right." A wicked smirk settled on her lovely face. Her head fell against his chest as she turned all control over to him. "And it's going to confuse the hell out of him."

They laughed and he spun them as the final notes fell from the song. Nick kept to the oldies but went tongue-in-cheek with Chuck Berry's 'You Never Can Tell'. Spell broken, Keith kissed her cheek. "Save one more for me later, will ya?"

"My dance card's written in pencil, just for you," she winked and backed away to scoop up her shoes. Within seconds she'd crossed the floor and joined Wallace in doing the Twist.

Arms wound round his waist and Dottie's low whisper tickled his ear. "Hey, Pudding."

Keith chuckled at the reminder of their earlier rendezvous. "Hey yourself."

"Got enough left in those hips for the Watusi?"

"For you? They'd even shake a tail feather."

"Hey, not where the kids can see."

"Let 'em watch," he said as he turned and took her in his arms. "They might learn something."


	3. MAC by Jeanie205

**MAC by Jeanie205**

As she opened the door to her bedroom closet, Mac considered for the thousandth time how absurdly cavernous it was.

When she'd gone condo-shopping after her return to Neptune, she knew she'd both frustrated and bewildered the realtors. _This one is so_ _near the beach,_ they'd say. But Mac tended to burn to a crisp if not covered head to toe. _Beautiful granite countertops, fabulous new kitchen._ Of course, Mac hardly ever cooked. And her personal favorite, because it was always uttered in hushed tones: _open concept design._ As though she must be actively searching for a way to turn her personal living space into party central.

This one, the condo she'd finally chosen, had none of those features. But the realtor had thrown open the closet door with a flourish, as if _this_ were the one amenity that would close the deal. _Who could resist such a closet?_ her expression had seemed to say.

But the truth was that Mac had bought the condo not for its closet space, but because of the small extra room that she used for tinkering with computer hardware. A room that was _not_ open concept, and could be closed off when she had the occasional visitor.

And then of course there'd been the price. Without the beach access, the high end kitchen, and the great room, it had fit her pocketbook nicely.

Mac gazed now at the endless hanging racks, open shelving, and built-in drawers, and wondered how anyone could possibly have enough clothes to fill them up. Two and a half years after move-in, the space was still mostly empty, and she was almost certain it would probably remain so. Mac had always been a fan of 'less is more.'

At the very back of the closet, hung in a neat row, were the business suits that she'd worn when she'd worked at Sun Microsystems, and then later at Kane Software. Gray suits, mostly, in all different shades. Gray had pretty much described her life back then, too, before she'd given up the big bucks and the prestigious job titles to throw in her lot with Veronica and Keith at Mars Investigations. Despite the precipitous drop in income, it had been a good move. She certainly couldn't say her life wasn't filled with color now.

Clad in only her bra and bikini briefs, Mac studied herself in the full-length mirror that ran the length of one wall. Not too bad, she thought. She smiled at her reflection, remembering how at seventeen, she'd despaired of ever losing her 'baby fat,' as her mother had called it. The chubby cheeks and the round face that had made her look younger than her years. But by the time she'd graduated from Hearst, it had simply melted away and cheekbones had appeared in its place.

Mac worked at keeping herself in shape. Every job she'd had over the past decade had been sedentary. Not too surprising for a software engineer and programmer who specialized in security systems. Combine the crazy work hours with the tendency of her nerdtastic colleagues to subsist on junk food, and you had a recipe for packing on the pounds.

But Mac had stuck with a vegetarian diet. That, plus the occasional visit to the local gym, and the even more occasional run, had allowed her to keep her body trim and her weight stable.

Mac sighed. She knew she should be packing for the weekend, but the problem was pulling together the right clothes. It was the kind of thing she'd never been very good at.

 _Let's see. Spa morning with Veronica, hanging out clothes, wedding attire, stuff to sleep in, something to wear to breakfast tomorrow._

Was there a plan for a day-after breakfast? Mac wasn't sure. If she'd still been dating Dick, he'd probably have fed her, but as it was...

Nope. Not going there, not even in her head. They'd both decided that it just couldn't work between them, and she was not going to waste a single moment thinking about any kind of relationship with Dick Casablancas.

Except for friendship. _That_ they seemed able to manage quite well.

At first, they'd only been friends as a part of the large extended social circle that kind of grew up around Logan and Veronica when they got back together. That's when Mac had realized that Dick was no longer the waste-of-space asshole she remembered from high school. Instead he was a successful businessman with a string of thriving restaurants.

But soon, the two of them had formed their own separate friendship, and had even tried dating. But as much as they had fun together, the relationship thing never really made sense for them. Mac never understood why, but after three tries, she'd simply decided to accept it.

So they'd kept the friendship part - kept the hanging out and the helping out - and let everything else go. Mac and Dick were special to one another. They didn't require further definition, and that was the end of it. And they were both a lot happier with each other that way.

(Although, if pressed, Mac would have to admit that sometimes she really missed the great sex.)

She was looking around her closet idly, still trying to decide what to pack, when her eyes fell on the garment bag holding the dress she'd bought for the wedding. Mac smiled, remembering the day she'd bought it. That had been one of those days she'd spent with Dick, both hanging out and helping out. They'd been coming down to the wire with the wedding planning, and Dick had needed her to give him a hand. With the food, of all things. And _he,_ the restaurateur.

 **XXXX**

 _Mac was sitting at her desk at Mars Investigations when her phone buzzed, and she was not at all surprised to see Dick's name light up on her Caller ID. Since he'd started planning the food for the wedding reception, he hadn't_ stopped _calling._

 _"Hey, Dick," she said, accepting the call, "you'll be happy to know you are the lucky winner of a fabulous prize for asking the one millionth question about the upcoming Mars-Echolls nuptials. Congratulations!"_

 _Dick just laughed, "Come on, Mac, you can't let me down here, not when we're so close to the finish line."_

 _"What is it now?" She was resigned. And she did, after all, want her friends to have the nicest possible wedding._

 _"It's the food..." he began, but she interrupted immediately._

 _"The food?! Hey, that's in your wheelhouse, not mine. You're the guy who owns six restaurants on two coasts."_

 _"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I just need you to do some taste-testing. And since I heard you were going to be in San Diego tomorrow, I figured maybe I could treat you to some lunch, and you could help me out."_

 _Mac fleetingly considered asking just how it was that Dick knew about her shopping trip to San Diego, but then she remembered that this was Neptune where everyone knew everything. It would have been pointless, anyway._

 _"What time do you want me there?" she asked, bowing to the inevitable._

 _Mac's shopping expedition had been very successful so she was in a good mood by the time she showed up at Sans Souci for lunch the next day._

 _"So what is this food crisis?" she asked Dick. "You must be desperate if you need my help."_

 _"Not desperate, Mac. I just figured you'd know what Ronnie likes to eat."_

 _"Dick, I know a lot of things about Veronica, but I'm not intimately acquainted with her taste buds. Besides, she pretty much eats everything."_

 _"Yeah, I know that. I've just got a bunch of choices for appetizers and for desserts and I need some help deciding."_

 _"Okay, bring it on. I'll see what I can do."_

 _An hour and several discussions later, the decisions had been made. In addition to a tapas bar, a grill station, and a pasta buffet, there would be butler-passed artichoke frizzles, figs stuffed with ricotta cheese, assorted canapes, mini beef Wellingtons with bearnaise sauce, and gougeres. Mac was especially fond of the gougeres, which seemed to her like tiny cheese eclairs._

 _"Are you sure you don't want to do the lamb thingies, too?" Mac asked. "Just because I couldn't help you out with the meat taste test..."_

 _"Nah, I think we've got it covered."_

 _The desserts took a little longer, but they managed to put together an entire table of fancy sweets: crème brulee, peach and mascarpone Napoleons with blackberry coulis, chocolate lava cake with raspberry sauce, cannolis (always a Veronica favorite), assorted biscotti, tarts, and petit fours, and finally, traditional Italian wedding cookies._

 _"How can you go wrong with something called 'wedding cookies'?" Mac wanted to know._

 _"So what would you like for lunch?" Dick asked when they were done. Mac looked at him like he'd lost his mind._

 _"You must be kidding! I just spent the last hour filling my face with the most delicious stuff. I couldn't eat another thing."_

 _"Okay, then how about joining me for a glass of wine? There's something else I wanted to ask you about."_

 _Mac nodded her head, curious, as Dick filled her glass with one of the sweeter wines he knew she loved._

 _"I was just wondering..." Dick cleared his throat suddenly, uncharacteristically hesitant, before beginning again._

 _"Does it bother you that Logan and Ronnie decided not to have a best man and a maid of honor?" he asked finally. "Cuz I mean it would have been you and me, right?"_

 _Mac was a little perplexed, not sure what he was getting at._

 _"Maybe it would have been us. Maybe not. And I would have been happy to stand up for Veronica if she'd asked, but I'm not...upset that they decided otherwise, no."_

 _Dick nodded. "It's not like I ever really expected to be anyone's best man. I sure as shit never thought Logan would ever get married. I think...if Ronnie hadn't come back..."_

 _Dick shrugged, his voice trailing off. "He never would have married anyone else. It was Ronnie...or nothing."_

 _Mac nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty certain it's the same for her. In fact, I can remember her telling me more than once that she was_ never _gonna get married."_

 _They both laughed a little at the absurdity of their friends._

 _Mac drained her glass. "So is that it?"_

 _"I want to do a toast," Dick said suddenly. "At the reception. That's all the best man's really good for anyway. The toast and the bachelor party."_

 _"Oh, no, Dick. No, no, no. If you say something to embarrass Veronica at her wedding, she will_ kill _you. And that's only if I don't get to you first!"_

 _Mac saw disaster written all over that suggestion._

 _"What if I gave you final approval over the speech? How about that? And you could say something, too, Mac. She_ is _your best friend. And...who knows them as well as we do?"_

 **XXXX**

So he'd finally convinced her. Mac chuckled, remembering how long it had taken him to produce a written copy of his speech. And how heavily she'd redacted the original version before she'd pronounced it fit for public consumption. And Veronica's ears.

Mac came back to the present with a start, and glanced nervously at the bedroom clock. _Shit!_ It was already nearly eight-thirty and she had made the spa reservations for ten. Good thing she worked better under pressure, she thought, grabbing her overnight bag from the closet shelf and throwing things inside. Fifteen minutes later, she was dressed, packed, and clutching the garment bag with her new dress as she hurried out the door.

 **XXXX**

Mac hadn't wanted to be late, but these days, it was never a good idea to get to Veronica's living quarters _early_. Especially when Logan was there, too, and the baby wasn't.

Logan and Veronica had a tendency to _forget_ themselves. She supposed it was great that they had so much...passion. They were, after all, getting married today. But Mac had made the mistake of showing up a little early once, and an unlocked door and their lack of inhibitions had led to a scene that had Mac blushing in Logan's presence for weeks afterwards.

So Mac got to their room at the last possible moment, and she and Veronica made it to their spa appointment with only a minute to spare. They were immediately taken in hand by two large, blonde women who introduced themselves as Gretchen and Gunhilde.

"Take off your clothes, then," one of them said briskly, shooing them off to the changing room. Was there a reason, Mac wondered idly, why she couldn't remember which was Gretchen and which Gunhilde? They didn't really look alike. And yet...

Mac shrugged as she and Veronica stripped off their clothes and donned the robes provided by the spa.

"This reminds me of Hearst," Veronica said suddenly.

Mac's brow wrinkled. "Uh, yeah, because we had so many spa days freshman year. That must have been your _other_ best friend you were with. Wallace, maybe," she added with a smirk.

Veronica laughed, poking her in the ribs. "Nope, but I'll let him know he can come the next time we decide to pamper ourselves."

Mac grinned as she tried to imagine Wallace's reaction to being invited along on one of the few occasions when Mac and Veronica did anything remotely 'girly.'

"What I _meant_ was," Veronica insisted on making her point, "getting dressed together to go out, just the two of us. Not caring about stripping down and trying on everything in the closet. Throwing rejected outfits all over the room."

Veronica looked at Mac affectionately. "I missed that after I left."

Mac was surprised. "But...you made friends at Stanford, Veronica. And at Columbia. Some of them are even on today's guest list."

"Yeah, I know." Veronica nodded in agreement. "But they weren't you."

Mac stilled, feeling her eyes sting. She and Veronica didn't ordinarily _do_ sentimental, but maybe this was the day for it, after all. Before she could figure out an appropriate response, a frowning Gretchen-Gunhilde appeared in the doorway.

"How long does it take to remove the clothes then, ladies?" she asked, hurrying them along, in what Mac was sure was some kind of Teutonic accent.

But when they'd settled onto the tables, and the masseuses had begun to work their magic, Mac was ready to forgive the buxom bossy blondes anything. This was heaven. Why the hell didn't she do this more often?

Mac chuckled when she heard a low moan from Veronica.

"So should I tell Logan he's got some competition?" she smirked.

Veronica shifted on the table to turn her head in Mac's direction. "Do you think I could talk him into going to massage school?" Maybe she was only half-kidding.

"I think you could talk Logan into almost anything, but massage school might be off the table," Mac said with a grin.

"Oh, god, Mac, puns from you?" Veronica groaned. "I get enough of those from Logan."

By the time the massages were over, and the facials begun, Mac and Veronica were so relaxed they were practically boneless. Although the green gunk that was being smeared over their faces wasn't quite as appealing as the body massages. Especially with the instructions to 'not move a muscle' while the masks hardened in place.

Yeah, that probably wasn't going to work. Not when your spa-mate was Veronica Mars. Mac counted down the seconds while she waited to hear a complaint about the enforced silence. But when she did speak, Veronica's words were not what she expected.

"You know, you really didn't have to do this, Mac. I'm sure it was ridiculously expensive and I also know what your salary at MI is." Veronica had turned her head toward Mac, and her soft smile was affectionate.

"Well, geez, Veronica, we had to do _something_ a little girly on your wedding day," Mac protested. "Your shower was" —she shrugged— "And you didn't want a bachelorette party. So this is it. And besides, think of all the money you saved me by not making me buy some puffy, frilly maid of honor dress. In a god-awful color like puce or mauve. Or maybe _chartreuse_."

Veronica was indignant. "I would _never_ have made you wear chartreuse!" she said, before pausing in thought. "Is chartreuse even a color? I thought it was a liqueur."

"Yeah, and what color is the liqueur?" Mac asked, snickering.

"Oh, yuck," Veronica said, laughing fully now as she contemplated the idea of Mac in her chartreuse finery. "You would have been a sight."

"Uh, oh," Mac muttered. "Pretty sure you're not supposed to be laughing. Gretchen and Gunhilde are going to be in here any minute."

And as though she'd conjured them up, the two brawny Nordic women appeared in the doorway.

"You must not move a muscle in your face!" Gretchen scolded. "Only five more minutes," Gunhilde added, sighing, as though she were speaking to a child. By which it was made clear to Mac that she and Veronica were not taking this seriously enough.

"I suppose we can be good for five more minutes." Veronica said through stiffened lips, effectively chastened.

By the time the face masks were removed and they'd progressed to the nail salon, Mac and Veronica were in high spirits. Mac had had mani-pedis before, but none that came with glasses of champagne. She and Veronica sat in the pedicure chairs while four anxious attendants buffed and filed and polished.

Mac was admiring the brilliant shade of turquoise that was being simultaneously painted on her fingers and toes when she heard Veronica's very young, very blonde manicurist say breathily, "Oh, are you the bride?"

When Veronica answered in the affirmative, the girl gave a little squeal of delight.

"You're just going to be the most beautiful bride _ever_ ," she enthused, while painting Veronica's mommy-length fingernails a lovely shade of deep rose. "Are you getting married in the hotel? Will we be able to see you in your dress? Oh, it's so _exciting_!"

Mac watched as Veronica opened her mouth to voice a response, when her friend suddenly froze. And then she was struggling to maintain her composure, but it was a losing battle, and soon Veronica was laughing helplessly.

Mac was flummoxed, until with many a wink and thrust of her chin, Veronica succeeded in directing Mac's attention to the name-tag on her manicurist's uniform.

 _Amber_ , it read.

And then Mac was off, too, the two of them convulsed with glee.

Two of Veronica's fingernails had to be redone, and three of Mac's. And the four manicurists who surrounded them went quietly about their business, no doubt making plans for a lunchtime chinwag about the crazy ladies they'd worked on that morning.

When their nails were dry, including the re-dos, and they were changing back into their clothes, Mac observed, "We are terrible people, Veronica, making fun of that poor girl. Even if she didn't know it."

"Yup," Veronica agreed with a grin. "We're going straight to hell."

And then they were off on another round. Mac couldn't remember the last time she'd heard Veronica laugh so much.

Or the last time she'd seen Veronica so happy.

 **XXXX**

It was 12:30 by the time they reached Mac's hotel room, a suite which Logan had insisted on paying for. She was so grateful not to have to drive back to Neptune that night that Mac had made only token protest. Even the smallest room at L'Auberge Del Mar would have been well out of her price range.

Logan had claimed that she was doing them a favor, of course. That Veronica needed a place to get ready, since he and the other men would be using their own suite. But Mac knew they could have made any number of other arrangements that did not include giving her a place to sleep that night.

No, this was just Logan. The real Logan. The one who made kind gestures, and gave thoughtful gifts, and who loved Veronica and their baby more than his own life. And his friends, nearly as much. If you had Logan Echolls's attention and his affection, then you _had_ it.

Mac had known Veronica for a long time, and even the years of infrequent contact hadn't broken their bond. But Logan had always remained something of an enigma, even when she'd gotten to know him just a bit during their time at Hearst. It was only when he'd come back into Veronica's life - into alltheir lives, really - that she'd begun to understand who he really was, beneath all the arrogance and the bravado. The boy, and then the man, who Veronica had been in love with all along.

Mac's stomach growled suddenly, and she hoped Logan's promised room-service lunch would appear soon.

Dottie arrived just then, along with an excited Wyatt.

"Hello, sweet pea," Veronica crooned as she lifted her daughter from Dottie's arms. Mac marveled anew at how well Veronica had adjusted to the recent changes in her life. But then Veronica thrived on challenge and motherhood was just the latest one.

"Mama." Wyatt's voice was soft as she snuggled into her mother's neck.

"Were you good for Grandpa and Nana Dot?" Veronica held Wyatt close to her body as she swung her around. Mac thought how alike mother and daughter were, and smiled at the picture they made.

Trina Echolls arrived at the room next. She had met Trina only recently, and didn't know her well. But she was Logan's sister, and both Mac and Veronica thought she should be there at what was more or less a family luncheon.

When the waiter finally arrived with their food, Mac could smell the tomato and garlic, and was amused that Logan had played it safe with one of Veronica's favorite dishes.

"Look, Wyatt," Veronica said happily. "Daddy sent us manicotti!"

They sat around a large glass-topped table, and Veronica dished up the manicotti for Dottie and herself, cutting some up in a small bowl for Wyatt. Mac uncovered another plate and was gratified to see that Logan had remembered to order her favorite tomato risotto.

They were all so busy that at first they didn't notice the pained expression on Trina's face. Veronica finally realized that her soon-to-be sister-in-law had no food in front of her.

"Let me get you some manicotti," she said to Trina with a smile. "Smells great, doesn't it?"

Trina's expression swiftly morphed from pained to panicked. "Well, um, er...pasta and cheese..."

Mac was puzzled. Was Trina a vegan?

"This risotto is fabulous, Trina," Mac offered, ready to spoon some onto a clean plate for her.

"Uh...risotto. But...that's... _rice_?" Trina looked and sounded as though she'd been offered a luncheon choice of either boiled eyeballs or rat tails.

Dottie gave her a puzzled frown and then glanced again at the food trolley.

"Wait!" she said, jumping up. "There's another dish on the lower section of the cart."

Dottie retrieved the third dish and removed the dome to reveal a whole lot of lettuce and a sprinkling of fruit.

"Uh...Summer Berry Salad," Dottie read off the accompanying card, as she placed the dish in front of Trina. "How's that?"

"Perfect," Trina said, smiling at last.

Mac glanced around at them all with their diverse menu choices.

"Logan pays attention, doesn't he?" she murmured to Veronica.

"Constantly," Veronica answered softly, smiling. "He always has."

 **XXXX**

Dottie and Trina left for their own rooms immediately after lunch. Dottie had "things to do" and Trina needed to "rest." Wyatt had started to yawn and rub her eyes before she'd even finished her last bite of pasta, so Veronica put her down for a nap in the other room on "Auntie Mac's big bed."

"This is good," Veronica said. "She'll be much easier to deal with later on if she gets a nap in."

Mac took advantage of the break in activity, throwing herself down on the surprisingly comfortable couch. She had barely drifted off when she was startled awake by a knock.

"Flowers, I think," Veronica said over her shoulder, moving to open the door. "Don't get up."

Mac was nearly asleep again when she heard the muffled "Shit!" from Veronica. She was awake and alert in an instant.

"What's wrong? Did he find us?"

The question silenced Veronica's cursing tirade and she shook her head. "No, it _was_ the flowers at the door, but they forgot Wyatt's pomander."

It was a small thing, but it was, after all, Veronica's wedding day, and Mac thought she was allowed to be distraught over something minor. She looked at her watch.

"What time is that shaving thing you set up for the guys?"

"One. Why?"

"It's only one forty-five. I'll give Wallace a call and get him to swing by the flower shop and pick up the missing piece on his way back to the hotel. You can call the florist and tell them he's coming. Try not to worry."

Telling a bride not to worry about missing flowers on her wedding day was perhaps unrealistic, Mac admitted to herself, scrolling down to Wallace's number.

He picked up on the second ring.

"What's up, Mac? Everything okay? Any problems with—"

"Everything's still a go with Operation Mouth, we've just got some missing flowers. The florist forgot to include the pomander ball with the delivery."

"The _what_ now?"

"Pomander ball. It's..." Mac paused, sighing. "You know what? You don't have to know what it is. I just need you to run over to the florist on the way back and pick it up."

Mac gave Wallace the name of the shop and her room number.

"No problem," he said. "Tell Veronica not to worry. Wallace Fennel is on the case."

"Right," Mac said, laughing.

Twenty minutes later, Wallace showed up, flower box in hand. Veronica hugged him, smiling in relief.

Mac sighed again. Crisis averted.

 **XXXX**

Mac fell asleep again, waking only briefly when the cosmetologist showed up to do Veronica's hair and makeup.

At one point, she heard Wyatt's sleepy voice, followed by Veronica's softone. "We have to be quiet, sweet pea. Auntie Mac is having a nap."

And then Veronica was shaking her gently awake.

"Time to get up, Mac," she said quietly.

Mac smiled when she turned her head and found she was nose-to-nose with Wyatt.

"Ni' nap?" the baby asked, patting Mac's face.

"A very nice nap, baby girl," Mac told her, sitting up and pulling Wyatt into her lap. "What time is it?" she asked Veronica, yawning.

"Three-thirty."

"Yikes!" Mac put the baby down and was on her feet in an instant. "I'm off to the shower."

When she pulled her dress out of the garment bag, Mac chuckled just a little at the irony. Because she was wearing lace after all. But it wasn't big, and it wasn't puffy. And it definitely wasn't chartreuse.

Mac's dress was a sheath, in dark navy blue lace. It had a high neckline, and it fit her slender body like a glove. She'd bought it at Ann Taylor, and even at the sale price she'd splurged a little. But she'd wanted to look nice. After all, she did have to get up and give her toast. And right after Dick, of course, who always looked so damned good without even trying, with his crazy soft hair and his great smile...

 _Fuck!_ She would _not_ think about how good Dick looked. And she would _not_ wonder if he'd like how she looked in this dress. Because that was most definitely _not_ why she'd bought it.

She'd been aboard that ship already. More than once. And it had absolutely, unequivocally, sailed away without her.

She was not stepping foot on that deck again.

Mac emerged from the bathroom at four twenty-five, hair and makeup in place, fastening a pair of dangling silver earrings.

Veronica stared at her. "How did you do that so fast? I feel like I've been getting ready for hours."

Mac laughed. "Well, for one, my hair and makeup routine is pretty much the same all the time. And for another..."

Mac paused and Veronica narrowed her eyes,

"Yes?" she said. "And for another?"

Mac pursed her lips. _How the hell to put this?_

"Veronica, you're probably the most extraordinary person I know. You've overcome so much, accomplished so much. You have a beautiful life, a wonderful family. You are loved. And you are a proud, independent woman."

Veronica's brows were raised now, as though waiting for the punchline.

Mac sighed. "You're also stunning. So beautiful that people turn to stare sometimes when you walk by."

She could see Veronica opening her mouth to protest, but Mac stopped her with a smile.

"And most of the time, you don't even think about what you look like. You're not conceited about it, because to you, it's not an accomplishment, it's just...a fact. Like the fact that your eyes are blue and you're, uh, a little on the short side. How you look is just...there. You don't spend a lot of time trying to enhance it."

Mac could see the look of bewilderment in Veronica's eyes and she laughed affectionately, patting her on the shoulder.

"But then every great once in a while you go into super girly mode and pull out all the stops. Let yourself glory in the idea that you're going to be able to knock everyone's socks off. And really, Veronica, if you can't do that on your wedding day, when can you do it? But it takes a while to get everything...perfect."

Veronica smiled a little sheepishly. "I couldn't go through this every day. But today..."

"And today," Mac said reassuringly, "today you will look so perfectly beautiful that even Logan, who has loved you for nineteen years, and would happily watch you walk down the aisle wearing a Hefty bag, is going to be blown away. You can trust me on that."

"Well, after all this trouble, he damn well better be," Veronica said with a grin.

"And speaking of Hefty bags, are you planning to get married in that robe? Shouldn't we be getting you into your gown?"

Veronica was shaking her head even before Mac stopped speaking.

"I don't want to get it wrinkled, so Wyatt and I are getting dressed at the restaurant."

"Where is Wyatt?" Mac asked, looking around, as she realized for the first time that she and Veronica were alone.

"Dottie came by to pick her up while you were getting dressed..."

Veronica was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"That must be our transportation," she said. "I wonder what Logan sent to pick us up."

 **XXXX**

It had always been clear to Mac that Logan Echolls never did things by halves, especially when it came to his family. But the car that arrived to whisk them them away to Sans Souci just left her shaking her head.

As soon as she and Veronica arrived at the restaurant, everything started happening very quickly. Dick's office had been turned into the bride's dressing room, and Veronica at last removed her gown from its protective covering so that Mac could help her into it.

When Veronica was completely dressed, she was, as Mac had predicted only minutes earlier, utterly beautiful. Certainly the most beautiful bride that Mac had ever seen. And definitely the happiest.

Impulsively, Mac grabbed her hand, giving it a little squeeze.

"This was all meant to be, you know," she said softly. "I couldn't imagine any other life for you."

"Me, either," Veronica answered, squeezing her hand in return.

And then they were out of time as Dottie whisked into the room carrying Wyatt.

"Hey, baby girl, you know what? You and I are up first," Mac said, taking Wyatt from Dottie's arms. "Have you got your fancy flowers?"

Wyatt nodded, lifting her arm to show Mac the small ball of fragrant flowers hanging from her wrist.

"Well, then, I guess we're ready."

Mac had worried about this moment, wondered if she'd be able to wrangle the energetic toddler to her place at the head of the aisle so that she could take part in her parents' wedding. But Wyatt was smiling at Mac, happily swinging the pomander, and Mac thought, "Piece of cake."

But just as she put the baby down, a look of distress came over Wyatt's face, and before Mac could react, she was toddling off toward the room they'd just exited as fast as her little legs could carry her.

And Mac had time for one brief flash of panic.

 _Oh, god, now what? I'm going to single-handedly ruin this wedding and Veronica will never forgive..._

But Wyatt was back in a moment, pomander ball dangling from one arm and Cuddles clutched firmly in the other.

"Wabbit, Aun'ie Mac," Wyatt stage-whispered, and Mac could hear the titters of the guests.

"Can't go without Cuddles," Mac agreed softly, giving her a gentle push. But it wasn't until she saw Logan that Wyatt began to move.

"Daddy!" she cried, running headlong down the aisle, while Mac slipped quietly around to the side and made her way to the seat that Dick had saved for her.

"Nice job," he whispered, smirking,

"Shut up," Mac said, sighing with relief. "I hope nobody ever signs me up to be a den mother."

 **XXXX**

Mac was sitting at the bar with a glass of wine when Dick caught up with her shortly after the ceremony ended. It was the 'cocktail hour' and the guests were happily munching on the hors d'oeuvres that Mac had chosen weeks earlier.

"Shouldn't you be checking on the food or something?" she asked him.

"All taken care of. I just wanted to ask you something."

Mac nodded, inviting Dick to continue.

"It's about Logan and Ronnie's wedding vows." He hesitated, his face a study in confusion. "Did they seem, I don't know, a little strange to you?"

Mac smiled at his befuddlement. "Strange to _you_ , maybe, but not to Veronica and Logan. They were lines from _The Velveteen Rabbit_."

"From the _what?"_

" _You_ know," she said, " _The Velveteen Rabbit_. The toy bunny that wanted to be a real rabbit."

Mac looked at him expectantly, brow wrinkled, hand moving in impatient circles, while she waited for him to make the obvious connection. When enlightenment failed to appear on Dick's face, it slowly came to her that no one would have read _The Velveteen Rabbit_ to Richard Casablancas, Jr. His bedtime stories, if indeed there'd been any, were far more likely to have included guns and swords and other implements used in the manly pursuit of human destruction.

She felt a sudden pang when she realized how improbable it was that there'd been any tales about whimsical stuffed animals in Little Dick's bookcase.

But grown-up Dick nodded, his brow quirking as he finally caught on. "Their wedding vows were lines from a _kids'_ book? About a _rabbit_?"

Mac nodded her confirmation and Dick began to smile, a sudden gleam in his eye.

"Well, that sure works," he said, his smile becoming a smirk, "because the two of them never stop fucking like bunnies."

Mac just rolled her eyes, but Dick wasn't finished.

"Hey, you know what?" he said, apparently hit with sudden inspiration. "I think that would make a great ending to my toast. Tie right into their vows. Cuz who would know better than me, since I had to put up with them fucking like bunnies day and night before Logan deployed that first time."

He tilted his head at Mac, seeking corroboration. "Even you walked in on them once, remember..."

Mac's eyes widened in horror. "Dick, you can _not_ say something like that! Not at their wedding! With her father sitting right there! Are you _nuts_?"

"I don't know, Mac." His lips twisted in a sly grin. "Seems like too good an opportunity to pass up."

Mac could feel her face getting red as the blood rushed to her head. She fixed Dick with a death glare as she moved into his personal space, hissing into his face.

"Richard Casablancas, if you embarrass Veronica and Logan like that at their wedding, I swear I will kill you myself!"

Before Mac could get out another word, Dick's grin had turned into a laugh.

"God, Mac, you're so easy! Did you really think I'd talk about them _fucking_ with Keith Mars sitting right in front of me? He'd probably cut off my balls."

Mac heaved an irritated sigh, but she was mostly just relieved.

"Behave yourself, Dick," she chastised him.

"Always do," he said, bending down to kiss her cheek before drifting off again toward the kitchen.

 **XXXX**

Mac was happy to be sitting with her family. Even though they lived in the same town, she didn't get to see them all that much. Her brother Ryan she saw even less of, since he'd moved from Neptune to LA after graduating from Hearst.

For the moment, the seat on her right was empty because Dick was still making his rounds, still making sure that everything was going smoothly behind the scenes. Mac knew that he was never going to be satisfied with anything less than perfection for the Mars-Echolls wedding.

"So what's up with you and surfer dude?" Ryan's voice drifted over from her left.

"Uh...surfer dude? Are you referring to the man who owns this restaurant...this very _successful_ restaurant...not to mention five _other_ restaurants?"

Ryan laughed. "Okay, what's up with you and the successful restaurateur?"

Mac sighed. "We're friends, Ryan, but you already know that."

"Friends. As in friends with ben..."

Mac kicked her brother in the shin. "I strongly suggest that if you want to ever have children you don't finish that sentence," she muttered, turning her head just as Dick slipped into the seat on her right.

"Hey, Mac," he said. "I was just in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on your dinner. I really hope you like it."

"My dinner?" Mac was mystified. "There are plenty of other courses that I can eat, Dick, you didn't need to go to the trouble of making a special main dish just for me."

Dick looked at her like she was speaking a language he didn't understand.

"Of course I did. Why the hell would you ever think I wouldn't?"

 _"Special diiinner..."_ Ryan muttered in her left ear in an annoyingly sing-song manner, but she only had time to hiss, " _Friends_!" before everyone's attention was diverted to Keith Mars, who had just risen to begin the toasts.

"What did Ryan say now?" Dick whispered the question in her ear and she shook her head. "Come on, tell me." Again she shook him off, keeping her focus on Keith. There was _no way_ she was going to share Ryan's teasing comments.

Dick was up next, and Mac chuckled softly, remembering how he'd so easily gotten a rise out of her with his "fuck like bunnies." She supposed she had been a bit...gullible...but Dick was such a wild card sometimes...

But _not_ with this toast. She'd gone over every word and given her final approval, and now he was delivering it like a master. Dick could be pretty funny, Mac admitted, smiling, as she listened to the howls of laughter from the guests.

And there! He was done. _Good job, Dick_. Mac was just about to toss him a _thumbs up_ when she suddenly realized that Dick had not...actually...stopped talking. That Dick was not done after all. That there was an addendum, a coda - _a fucking epilogue! -_ to his toast which she had most definitely not approved and...Oh. My. God.

Mac tried to communicate to Veronica through hand gestures and facial expression that _no, she hadn't known about this part_ , but it was already much, much too late.

And all she could think was: _I'm going to have to kill him after all._

Mac got up quickly and grabbed the mic from Dick as she began her own toast.

"It's hard to imagine how I could possibly follow up on that speech from Mr. Casablancas, but I'm sure gonna try hard." Mac's eyebrow quirked as she looked over at Dick and added, "But I do think I'll be staying away from any sports analogies and, uh, advice."

She could hear a few titters from the guests as she moved on.

"When Veronica told me that she and Logan were getting married, the very first thing she said was that they'd decided not to go with the traditional best man/maid of honor thing."

Mac waved her hand in the air dismissively, recounting her conversation with Veronica.

" _Relax, Mac_ , she said. _Don't worry about it. I would never make you wear one of those frilly dresses or give one of those dumb speeches."_

She threw a glance in Veronica's direction.

"Well, oops! Sorry, Veronica. Looks like it didn't work out exactly like you planned. I _didn't_ have to wear the frilly dress...but you _do_ have to listen to the dumb speech."

Veronica grinned. "Come on, no fair," she said.

"I first met Veronica in high school," Mac continued, laughing. "She was doing the detective thing even way back then, and she needed some...uh...technical help on one of her more enterprising investigations. And somehow we just...clicked. We worked on other projects together, and pretty soon I became the Q to her Bond."

Mac smiled at Veronica affectionately. "It also wasn't long before she became the best friend I'd ever had. That part hasn't changed, and come to think if it, neither has the rest of it. We just work out of a real office now instead of the girls' bathroom at Neptune High."

"Now, Logan," she nodded toward the groom, "also went to high school with us, but I didn't know him very well then." Her voice lowered dramatically as she drew out her words. "Because Logan Echolls was the class _dreamboat_ and he was _waaay_ out of my league."

Mac fluttered her eyelashes at Logan as he covered his face with his hand and groaned in embarrassment.

"Nope, I didn't really get to know Logan until we were at Hearst, and funnily enough, he _also_ needed some technical help with a project he was doing for one of his courses. A really classy website he'd dreamed up where interested parties could rate… uh, certain parts of the female anatomy."

Logan was shaking his head now, "Mac, you're killing me here," he said, as laughter erupted at the table filled with his pilot buddies.

She just smiled.

"I don't think Logan and Veronica were actually having an 'on-again' period while we were working on that but sometimes it was kinda hard to keep track. And it didn't seem to matter, anyway, because one of the first things I noticed about the two of them was the spark that was always there between them. The air positively crackled when they were in a room together."

Mac looked over and saw Logan cover Veronica's hand.

"So when Logan came back into Veronica's orbit, and they got together again after so many years apart, maybe I should have been surprised...but I wasn't. There's always been a kind of...inevitability about them. Like they were only waiting for the stars to be aligned just right so that everything could work out for them."

Mac looked over at Wyatt, snuggled against her father.

"And now they have Wyatt..."

"Hi, Aun'ie Mac." Wyatt heard her name and waved at Mac, trying to scramble off her daddy's lap.

"Hi, baby girl," Mac said, returning the wave, before her gaze moved from the toddler to her parents.

"Logan and Veronica have made this wonderful family together, and now...finally...they're exactly where they should be."

Mac raised her glass in the air. "To Veronica and Logan as they embark on the life they were always meant to have."

 **XXXX**

Mac was slumped in her chair, totally at ease for the first time since she'd gotten out of bed that morning.

She'd loved spending the earlier part of the day with Veronica. Pampering them both at the spa, lunching in the room, helping Veronica with her gown. She'd been honored to be entrusted with overseeing Wyatt's part in the ceremony. And while it may have originally been Dick's idea, Mac had relished delivering that toast. Yup. It had been a great day and she'd enjoyed every minute of it.

But it was also true that while she hadn't had to walk down the aisle in a puffy dress, or stick some damn flowers in her hair, it had all still been just the tiniest bit...stressful.

And now that stress was gone. The cake had been cut, the special dances were over, the DJ was doing his thing, and Mac was on her third drink. Or was it her fourth?

So she was relaxing, gazing absentmindedly around the room, when her eye was caught by the couple she never would have expected to find at this wedding. Mac straightened up and poked her brother in the ribs.

"Hey, did you notice Mr. Clemmons was here?" she asked, directing his attention across the room.

Ryan was forced to twist a little in his chair as he followed her gaze. "Why the hell was he invited?"

She wondered that herself.

Mac placed her drink on the table and made her way across the room.

Van Clemmons, ever the gentleman, rose immediately when he saw his erstwhile student approaching.

"Miss Mackenzie," he said, holding out his hand. "Terrific speech. I enjoyed it very much."

Mac shook his hand, smiling but befuddled.

"Margaret," Clemmons turned to the woman seated beside him, "this is Cindy Mackenzie, the only student at Neptune High who ever managed to break through every firewall we erected in the school's computer system."

Mac could hardly keep her jaw from dropping. _Was that true? She was the only one?_ If it _was_ true, she knew she ought to feel ashamed, or contrite, or at the very least, embarrassed. But Mac was just tipsy enough to instead be extremely gratified.

She turned toward the woman with a smile. "We've met before, you know. It was a long time ago, and it was only briefly. I went to a dance with Bu...uh, Vincent, and we stopped by so you could take pictures."

Van nodded. "Ah, yes. The so-called Alterna-Prom, I believe. Hosted, in fact, by Mr. Echolls, if I recall."

When his wife still failed to make the connection, he attempted to jog her memory. "You remember, Margaret," Van said matter-of-factly. "It was during Vincent's 'Capone' phase."

 _'Capone' phase?_ Mac was just beginning to sense the flicker of a memory working its way up to the surface when the woman suddenly smiled at her.

 _"_ Of course," Margaret Clemmons said, recognition dawning. "I made the reservations at the Jolly Roger myself. Lovely to see you again, dear."

"Likewise," Mac said, recalling with amusement her dinner on the pirate ship. "And, uh, speaking of seeing me again...I was just wondering—" Mac hesitated. Third drink, or fourth, it was still no excuse for being rude. _Better to ask Logan or Veronica_. "Are you having a good time?"

Margaret nodded. "It was lovely."

Spotting Logan by the cappuccino machine, Mac smiled at the couple and quickly extracted herself from the conversation with, "I promised the groom I'd pack up some dessert for him. It was nice to see you both."

She edged through the remaining dancers and joined Logan at the coffee bar.

"Hey, Mac, espresso?" He held out one of the demitasse cups for her.

She took the offered cup. "So...I was wondering about Van and the missus. Why are they here?" Mac decided to get right to the point.

Logan threw out one of his patented mega-watt smiles. "To help celebrate this momentous occasion, of course." He fixed another espresso and Mac understood that that was all the answer she was going to get. She gave a little mental shrug. It wasn't the first mystery in Logan's life that she hadn't been able to solve, and she doubted it would be the last.

Mac decided to change the subject. "Hope my toast didn't embarrass you too much."

Logan laughed. "No problem. I'm just tickled that my new father-in-law knows what an enterprising student I was. Probably picked up all kinds of brownie points."

His eyes were bright with mirth. "Now Dick's toast, on the other hand…"

Mac groaned. "I'm so sorry. I thought I had that under control."

Logan smirked. "Yeah, bet you had fun explaining _that_ to my...wife." .

Mac noted the slight hesitation. "You're enjoying being able to use that word, aren't you?" she asked with a soft smile.

"You have no idea," Logan said.

It would have been impossible for Mac to miss the exultant look on his face.

 **XXXX**

It was late in the evening when Veronica found Mac sitting alone, the rest of her family having already left for the return trip to Neptune. Mac had finally switched over to water, but it was far too late. She knew she'd probably have a humdinger of a hangover in the morning.

As Veronica sat down, she said: "So after your insistence that the ending was not part of the approved speech, I had a little talk with Dick about his toast." Veronica grinned. "At first, I really had him shaking in his boots. But then...I didn't have the heart to come down too hard on him because, you know, all this...and the cake."

Veronica waved her hand around to indicate all of the ways in which Dick Casablancas had made their wedding reception extraordinary.

"He claimed you'd made him cut his original ending. Something to do with our vows?"

Veronica's brow furrowed as Mac dropped her head in her hands and groaned.

Quickly, she explained about Dick's lack of familiarity with _The Velveteen Rabbit_. And that she, Mac, had enlightened him. But it was when she reached the phrase "fuck like bunnies" that Veronica's jaw dropped.

"But he claimed it was all a _joke_ , V. That he'd never in a million years say something like that in front of your dad. But now...I don't know..."

And suddenly, the absurdity of it hit them and they collapsed in laughter for the second time that day.

When the laughs had turned to smiles, Veronica regarded Mac affectionately.

"I don't know what I would have done without you today," she said. "I'd probably have been jumping out of my skin."

"Oh, _pshaw_." Mac shook her head. "You're never gonna convince me that you were nervous. Or that you had any second thoughts about marrying Logan."

Veronica's voice softened. "Nope, no second thoughts at all. But I still appreciated the company."

"And you know I was happy to be there for you."

Mac paused suddenly, pressed her lips together, and huffed out a small laugh before she continued.

"I think I must be really drunk, V, because I'm about to say something ridiculously sentimental. I...I'm glad you decided to stay in Neptune. Not just because of...I mean it's _great_ that you and Logan got back together and...made it work this time."

She shrugged.

"But, really, it's more myself I'm thinking about here. Now that we're working together at MI, it feels like everything suddenly got so much better for me. I...missed having you in my life."

"Me, too, Mac" Veronica said with a smile, impulsively wrapping her arms around her not-quite-maid-of-honor.

"Hey, we don't do hugs," Mac reminded her, as she breathed in the scent of Veronica's perfume.

"Yeah, I know," Veronica agreed. "We'll just deny it ever happened."

 **XXXX**

"Our last dance is a special request by the bride for her husband."

Dick sidled up to her chair. "You got any idea why we're getting the soundtrack from _Dirty Dancing_?"

"Not a clue." Mac shook her head. "But it's Veronica and Logan, so I think it's safe to assume that there's a reason. And that we'll never know what it is."

They were just spectators at first, but when the DJ asked everyone to join in, Dick grabbed Mac's hand. "So how about it, Mac? You gonna dance with me before this shindig ends?"

"Uh, not quite sure about this song, Dick."

"It'll be fine." He took her in his arms and they circled around the dance floor. "You know, Mac," he said into her ear, "I've been meaning to tell you all night that you're really rockin' that dress."

Mac looked up, surprised but pleased. "Thanks. You're looking pretty damn good yourself," she grinned.

She was thinking about all the things she could add to that statement, trying to decide if it would be a good idea to actually voice any of them, when the rhythm of the song picked up and she stumbled.

Dick caught her with a laugh and said, "I think maybe you should call it a night, Mac. I can take you back to the hotel now."

"Don't you need to stay and, I don't know, supervise or something?"

"Nah, it's just clean-up now. I got people for that."

With a quick wave to the bride and groom and a thumbs up to the bride, they headed out to the parking lot. The night air was chilly, and Mac shivered involuntarily. She'd forgotten how the temperature often plunged after dark, especially in October.

"You cold, Mackie?" Dick asked, slipping off his jacket and wrapping it around her as he helped her into his car. "I'll put on the heat."

Mac leaned against the seat, comfortably cocooned in Dick's coat, and had nearly drifted off to sleep by the time they reached the hotel. They were stepping out of the elevator on Mac's floor when she remembered she hadn't told him something very important.

"You did a fantastic job today, Dick. All the food. And that cake! Veronica seemed really happy about everything."

"Thanks for saying that, Mac."

"Well, I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true."

Dick smiled down at her as they continued down the hallway. "I know," he said. "That's one of the things I like best about you. You always mean what you say. And say what you mean."

Mac shrugged. "Can't seem to help myself."

They had reached her door by this time, and she asked, "So...is there anything _else_ you like about me?"

"Course there is. You're one of my best friends."

"Yeah, I know, Dick, but...that's not exactly what I meant." Mac smiled up at him.

Dick was silent but Mac heard his quick breath, and she knew he understood. She pushed her key card into the slot, and when she heard the distinctive click, turned the handle just enough to slightly open the door.

"Do you...want to come in?" she asked as off-handedly as she could manage. She tried to tell herself it was an impulse, but Mac knew there was a good chance she'd been subconsciously considering it all evening. Or perhaps, all day.

"Mac," Dick sighed. "You know that's probably not a good idea."

"You don't want to?"

Dick groaned. "Dammit, Mac. You know that's not it. But we've never been able to figure out the other stuff. What happens afterwards."

Mac reached up and kissed him then. Lightly, softly.

"It doesn't have to be such a big deal, Dick. We're not kids. And you know we'd both enjoy it."

Dick gazed at her solemnly, and for once the smirk was absent from his face. He opened and closed his mouth several times, as though about to speak, but still said nothing.

As the silence drew out, Mac wondered just how long she was going to have to wait for an answer.


	4. WEEVIL by Darlinginmyway

**WEEVIL by Darlinginmyway**

"What's up, boss? Ain't you got some fancy thing to go to today? Why you here?"

"My name's still on the building, right? I didn't know I needed your permission, Marco."

Marco wiped his hands on the rag hanging at his waist. "Hey, it's no problem with me, boss. Just didn't want you to miss Richie Rich's big day or nothing."

Weevil gritted his teeth, feinting toward Marco like he was going to hit him, enjoying the way the other man stumbled back quickly.

"I got some paperwork to do since you knuckleheads don't know how to file things properly."

"Maybe you should hire someone to help you with that, Eli," a new voice called out. Weevil turned to see Nina walking toward them, her coveralls at least three times too big for her frame.

It only took two weeks being the only woman in Weevil's garage to put all the men there with big mouths and sexist opinions in their places. Weevil almost instantly liked her, she reminded him very much of Veronica back in their high school days.

Marco bit his lip and walked away, keeping the opinion churning around his head to himself.

"I can handle it," Weevil said with a vague smile. Before the separation Jade took care of the business side of Weevil's garage, being the go-between for distributors and the like and letting him manage the floor and his employees. She'd been damn good at it, and to be honest, he was struggling. He'd much rather have spent a few more hours with his daughter than come to the shop and manage things he couldn't give a damn about.

"My cousin's good with numbers and stuff," Nina continued, ignoring Weevil's claim. "She'd be happy for the job."

"I got it Nina," Weevil stated again, "but thank you."

Nina shrugged and walked off, but Weevil knew it wasn't the last he'd be hearing about it.

He climbed the stairs to his office that overlooked the garage floor. Being cooped up in his office when there were cars he could be working on -engines he could be dismantling and reassembling, grease on his hands and coveralls, restorations- really gnawed away at him.

He didn't like the paperwork, and it wasn't that he was incapable, or thought it had to be Jade's job, but she'd been so much better at it than him-methodical and thorough to a fault.

He sighed and sat down in the custom chair he'd purchased for Jade, looking over the inventory sheets for the week prior, trying to see what was low, and what was still necessary. He needed to digitize the process to help him out, but he didn't have the time to devote to doing that and making sure the knuckleheads that worked for him didn't run his shop into the ground.

Weevil spent another hour on the paperwork before setting it aside, vowing to come back to it another day. He looked over at the invitation that sat on his desk: Veronica and Logan finally getting married and he was going to be able to bear witness to that.

He shook his head in disbelief, skeptical, but cautiously happy for the two of them. _I wonder if a warning would be out of line_.

His reverie was broken by yelling coming from the garage floor. He stood up quickly and walked to the big bay window that was half open.

"Yo boss," Nina's voice filtered up to him. "You better get down here!"

 **XXXX**

Weevil did his best to shake off the remains of his anger as he drove to meet up with Logan's crew at The Humidor. Running the garage from afar was starting to wear on his employees, some of whom required constant supervision, and some of whom just didn't know how to play well with others. He'd left Nina to babysit, much to the chagrin of the men working for him, but he didn't care. She was the most levelheaded and straightforward.

With her in charge, he knew he'd at least have a shop standing when he returned.

He couldn't believe he was the balancing force in so many people's lives.

Weevil played with the radio dial, unable to settle on one thing as he drove to the cigar lounge. So much in his life was different, and yet...these people, these same people from high school (some of whom he could do without) were still around in some way or another.

He didn't fit in with the Echolls and Casablancases of the world, and yet he still got pulled into their sphere.

There was no one to blame that on but Veronica. He got to participate in their world, but he wasn't a part of it, and for the past few years, he hadn't minded, but now, he was in it. A part of Veronica and Logan's day. He got to spend the day participating in a life that he himself had lost. And it stung a little, but he'd push through.

He'd do almost anything for Veronica, so he supposed that he could play nice for a few hours even if he was going to be around Dick Casablancas.

Weevil parked outside the modern looking building and got out of his car, spotting Wallace not far from him.

"Wallace," Weevil said, holding out his hand to the other man as he drew near.

"Weevil," Wallace responded, his face alight with obvious happiness. Sometimes Weevil envied Wallace's almost unshakeable optimism. "It's good to see you, man. How you been?"

Weevil shrugged. "Been busy with the shop. How 'bout you? Is teaching everything you hoped it would be?"

"Oh yeah, you remember the glory days of Neptune High. It's even worse from the other side."

"Probably for you," Weevil started, "because you were the perfect student. I bet I could whip those kids into shape in no time."

"Listen man, any time you want to drop by, you just let me know, alright?" Wallace clapped him lightly on the back and chuckled.

They reached the door of the lounge and Weevil pulled one open, the strong smell of tobacco and leather hitting him as the air wafted past.

The whole place screamed 'old money' and for a moment, Weevil was annoyed, but then he remembered, it wasn't his day, he was just along for the ride. Large leather couches and high-back leather chairs around mahogany tables. Red and brown brick walls set off the glass case of cigars at the end of the long room, and a dark wood and glass bar helped complete the image of opulence.

It was overwhelming, but typical.

"Weevs," he heard as he walked into the lobby area. "Glad you could make it, man."

Weevil refrained from rolling his eyes and took Logan's proffered hand.

"Richie," Weevil replied, no heat at all in his tone. "I'm surprised the warden let you do this. I figured she'd have a strict code of conduct for you for the day."

"Funny. You're a regular comedian," Logan shot back. He seemed lighter to Weevil, less wound up, but still a little on edge.

"You getting cold feet?"

Logan frowned, shaking his head. "Not even a little. I'm ready." He stared over Weevil's shoulder lost in thought.

"Will you stop mooning over Veronica?" Dick Casablancas' voice broke in. Weevil gritted his teeth and refrained from scoffing at the other man. Of all the people from high school that Weevil had formed an amicable acquaintance with, Dick never managed to be one of them.

"Aww, leave him alone; he's allowed to act like a lovesick teenager on his wedding day," a man Weevil assumed was friends with Logan said.

"Well, what's his excuse every other day?" Wallace added.

Weevil took distinct enjoyment in watching Logan squirm for a moment. "Yeah, boy's got it bad."

"Alright, alright," Logan started, "let's go sit down." The men started to slowly follow Dick and Logan toward the back of the lounge where the large glass case of cigars was on display.

"Hey," the man Weevil didn't recognize from earlier spoke, offering his hand. "I'm Jake, I fly-well, I guess _flew_ -with Logan."

"Eli Navarro. I had the displeasure of going to high school with these guys."

"And Hearst, lest we forget our glory days," Logan interjected.

"I'd rather not remember those days, if you don't mind," Weevil replied, sending a hard look Logan's way.

The men sat at a large round table, their view of the bar pretty complete.

"I know the manager of this place," Dick began, "they usually don't do set menus, but I figured something pretty light since the menu tonight is killer. Compliments of me."

"You didn't even wait for an opportunity for me to mention that, Dick," Logan scoffed.

Before anyone could say anything else, a tall tiered tray of hearty steak sandwiches on rye, cold cut prosciutto and salami, and hard cheeses was set in the middle of their table.

Weevil shook his head wondering what he was expecting instead.

"Dig in, fellas," Dick encouraged. "There's a dessert round too. You should definitely eat, Logan. I know you're concerned about your girlish figure, but it'll probably be a while before you eat tonight. Trust me, I've done a lot of weddings."

The men dug in with gusto, not politely waiting for anyone to move out of the way. They ate in silence for a few moments, enjoying the good food and atmosphere.

"So," Jake started, reaching toward the tray of mini-gherkins that'd been placed on the table. "This is a motley crew, Mouth. How'd you all manage to meet one another?"

"Well," Wallace piped up, "Weevil's gang taped me to a flagpole naked on my first day at Neptune High."

Weevil winced slightly at the memory before a grin broke over his face. "Yeah, not one of my prouder moments, Wally, but you know what was?"

"Uh oh," Dick said under his breath.

"Watching lover boy over here go bash in the future Mrs' headlights."

Jake's mouth dropped open a bit, as he turned his head toward Logan. "Mouth?"

"I was an asshole, Jake-"

"Was?" Weevil interjected lightly, no real malice in his tone. He knew Logan wasn't the same guy, but who could resist a good story?

"Your boy over here," Weevil said, pointing to Logan, "he wasn't really good at playing nice. He took a tire iron to V's car. Bashed in her headlights. Real son of a bitch this guy was. Good thing I came along, too. It was really satisfying to hit you that day, man."

Jake looked around the assembled group, a slight look of horror on his face. "So, you," he pointed to Weevil, "put Wallace on a flagpole, and apparently beat up Logan-"

"Beat up is not an accurate term," Logan cut in.

"Pretty sure I kicked your ass, Richie," Weevil returned.

"I don't know about that," Wallace interjected, "but I do know that's when the looks of longing and smoldering from Logan towards V began. The most intensive foreplay ever."

Weevil snickered as he watched Logan sink down a little in his chair, gratified at the moment that he was a little less composed.

"Let's go pick some cigars, shall we?" Logan said, shooting up from his chair and walking to the big glass walk-in cigar case behind them.

The remainder of lunch was spent in more good-natured ribbing, but Weevil started to see the little ticks of discomfort in Logan, and nearly called him out on his obvious relief when Dick told him they needed to stay on schedule.

"I do not want to be on the receiving end of Veronica Mars' anger today," Dick said.

"Try any day, man," Wallace replied.

The men started to filter out of the bar, when Weevil held Logan back for a moment.

"Listen," Weevil began, his own discomfort coming off of him in waves. "I know it's not really the day to bring it up, but you've got to let me pay back this loan. The garage is making good money now, and I-"

"Weevil." Logan shook his head at him. "It's not a loan, man. I don't expect anything back. It's the very least I could do."

"Look, I'm not a charity case, alright—"

"I don't think that," Logan replied. "I know about the times during the intervening years where you saved my ass and didn't tell anybody. And I know it probably wasn't really for me."

Weevil shrugged. "She wouldn't have been okay if something happened to you."

"Yeah, well, she wouldn't be okay if something happened to you either. So the money was my very, very small contribution to keeping the future Mrs. Echolls happy."

"She's letting you call her that?"

"Not a chance. So don't tell her, okay?"

Weevil grinned a little, looking out toward the parking lot. It chafed to know that Logan was a little closer to getting everything to complete his picture-perfect life.

Of course, being accused of murder and an addict weren't terribly bright spots, but he pulled through. The Logan and Veronica saga was about to enter a new phase—ones with vows exchanged and a precocious little girl—a life he'd had until it all fell apart.

It stung in a way that Weevil wished he could let go of, but he just wasn't there yet.

"Is Jade coming to the wedding?" Logan asked, and for a moment it stopped Weevil in his tracks.

"Uh, I don't know," Weevil said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. Logan already knew most of the details of his relationship with Jade, and sometimes it still surprised him what a sympathetic listener Logan could be; but, today wasn't the time for talking about a failed marriage and all the strife it had caused. "I asked her before, and she said no, but I'm going to try again."

"I'm sorry about-well-everything." Logan studied him for a moment. "So no chance for reconciliation?"

Weevil scoffed. "This ain't a fairytale man. Anyway, it's not about me today, you just worry about making sure you're where you need to be, alright?"

Logan nodded and held out his hand to Weevil. He took Logan's offered hand and smiled a little.

"Good luck, Weevs," Logan said, smiling, "Don't be late, Veronica'll kill you."

 **XXXX**

On the drive back to Neptune, Weevil tried to play out how the scene would go with Jade. As of two days ago, she had no intention of going to Veronica and Logan's wedding with him.

 _And act like a happy couple when that's not the case at all? No thanks, not for all your love of Veronica Mars,_ she'd said to him.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter as the thoughts flooded him. He didn't want to give up time with his daughter, but there was no way he'd be able to manage Valentina on his own during the wedding and not going simply wasn't an option.

Veronica would kill him.

He pulled his car around the backside of the the garage, resisting the urge to peek in at his employees. He heard the sounds of drills and loud chatter, and he knew that if anything went wrong, Nina could handle it, and if it was dire, she'd call.

He went up the back stairs to his new apartment over the shop. With Logan's loan and being able to buy the entire building, Weevil, for the first time ever, was living someplace rent and mortgage free.

Not that he got out of having to still worry about Jade and Valentina, but that extra bit of income going towards his daughter and soon to be ex-wife didn't hurt so much.

The apartment was one long loft space that had all the amenities he needed, but lacked any real feeling of home.

It worked for him though, and provided ample space for Valentina to run around and play when he had her. It certainly didn't feel like home, but it was comfortable, and it was his.

He quickly showered, getting rid of any lingering cigar smell, and dressed with care, double checking his coat pocket for the envelope with his wedding gift, and then setting back out on the road to his old home.

He pulled up in the driveway a few moments later and sat in his car for a beat to order his thoughts.

 _It'd be nice to spend time with you again._ He thought that would make a nice opener. Something to help soften the frosty veneer that Jade wore—one he didn't really blame her for. He'd screwed up and that had consequences.

He walked from his car to the door, slowly, going over all the things he wanted to say to her.

He rang the bell and waited, delighting in the muffled 'daddy!' he heard through the door.

"Valentina, wait, _mija._ " Jade opened the door a little, and Weevil saw Valentina's face peeking around the corner.

"Hello _mi niña hermosa_ ," Weevil said. "You been good for your mommy?"

Valentina nodded furiously barely waiting for Jade to open the door all the way before flying into her father's arms.

Weevil picked her up, reveling in her giggles and happy smiles, his heart a little less empty with her in his arms.

He closed his eyes and breathed deep. "Kiss?" he asked Valentina.

She giggled and grabbed his face, kissing him through her giggles. " _Besos_."

"That's right! Good girl." He looked over at Jade who stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, a neutral expression on her face.

She was dressed casually, but still looked as beautiful as ever.

"Didn't change your mind?" Weevil asked cautiously. "I'd really like you to go with me, Jade."

She huffed a little and turned, walking into the house. Weevil followed behind her, Valentina babbling happily in his arms.

"You just want someone there to take care of Valentina," Jade spoke from the edge of the kitchen.

"That's not all I want," Weevil started, figuring denying that would probably make her annoyed with him. "I think we'd have a good time together. We used to. I—" he hesitated for a moment, then continued. "I miss us being a family, Jade."

"Eli..."

"Please. It's just for the rest of the day. We used to—before anything else, we were friends. And I miss that. I miss how easy it was being around you."

He watched a number of emotions cycle across Jade's face and he waited. He hoped it'd be enough to soften her a little, make the afternoon bearable.

"Fine," she sighed. "It's just today, though Eli. I don't think that—"

"Yeah, no," he interrupted, not wanting to hear that he didn't still have a chance to stop the divorce proceedings. "I get it. Thank you."

She nodded at him and extended her arms to Valentina, who quickly left her father's embrace for her mother's.

"Come on, _querida_ , we need to get ready for a party."

 **XXXX**

The drive to the wedding site was stilted and awkward, only broken up by the occasional murmurs of Valentina from the backseat. Weevil had insisted Jade and Valentina ride with him, for practical reasons of course, but sitting in heavy silence seemed worse than sitting alone and checking his rearview mirror every few minutes to make sure she was still near him.

He sighed heavily and fiddled with the radio dial, a sunny, frivolous pop tune easing between the layers of awkwardness.

When they reached the wedding venue, Weevil could actually feel Jade shutting down. He tried to look at her in the passenger seat—arms crossed, face devoid of any real emotion, her lips in a thin line.

He tried not to audibly sigh, but figured he failed by the sharp turn of Jade's head toward him.

"Pretty site," she said, dispassionately. "Crazy what a lot of money can get you, right?"

"I prefer where we got married," he replied and apparently it was the wrong thing to say, because she wasted no time rolling her eyes and getting out of the car. She went around to the back to release Valentina from her seatbelt, her movements sharp and perfunctory.

Jade took Valentina's hand and walked around the car, stopping to look back at Weevil.

"You could've told me that it was a beach wedding, Eli."

Weevil paused, confused. He was sure he'd mentioned it. "Uh-"

"I'm in heels, Eli."

"Sorry," he replied, chagrined once he realized why she'd looked at him the way she did.

"Not to worry," a voice from beside them called. Weevil didn't recognize the woman, but she had a kind, warm smile that brightened when she look toward Valentina. She handed a small tote bag to Jade. "There are flip flops in there you can use. Should make it a little easier on you."

"Thank you," Jade replied, and the woman smiled warmly, walking back toward the entrance of the restaurant.

"Come here, sweetheart," Weevil said, holding his arms out to his daughter. Valentina sighed as her body fell into her father's arms, totally contented.

Weevil waited patiently beside Jade as she grabbed the pair of flip flops from the bag to change into. He watched her frown grow a little as she looked down at them, but when she looked up, her face was clear again.

"Let's go."

There weren't any assigned seats beyond those near where the ceremony would take place. Weevil followed Jade to the second to last row to the right of the center aisle.

After they were seated, the woman he recognized from earlier came around handing out more little tote bags. "The mini-beach balls are for tossing when they go down the aisle," she said smiling down at a sleepy Valentina before bustling off toward the other guests.

Weevil looked around as people filled in seats, some he recognized and others he didn't, but judging by the amount of uniforms, they must have been friends with Logan.

Valentina started to nod off in his arms, but he didn't mind too much. He missed the days when she was a baby, always ready to nap in his arms, but he especially found himself missing the ability to be around her all the time and not just four days a week.

Weevil watched as Logan took his place at the end of the aisle, looking put together and solid in his dress uniform. Weevil shook his head a little at the look he recognized on Logan's face.

He'd had it on his own once.

When the ceremony began, Weevil barely held in a laugh as he watched Wyatt come out with Mac, then run back inside, then out again with her stuffed bunny. She looked lost until she saw her father at the end of the aisle.

Weevil was struck by how unlikely it was that the Logan he'd once known was such a doting father.

Then again, similar things could be said about him, too.

Valentina was heavy in his arms when he stood to watch Keith walk Veronica down the aisle to Logan. Weevil turned to see Logan smiling-beaming-as Veronica walked toward him, a happy, smiling Wyatt in his arms.

The ceremony was mostly a blur for him, as he got lost in the memories of his own day, sitting beside the woman he didn't really want to let go of. Jade sat still and quiet beside him during the ceremony, her silence obvious amongst the sea of sniffles and laughs that surrounded them.

As the couple left the ceremony and tiny beach balls were being thrown their way, Valentina started to stir from her nap.

"Man, can you sleep, kiddo," Weevil joked as he nuzzled her cheek lightly. Valentina smacked her lips a little and grabbed her father's face pulling him down for a kiss.

"Let me take her," Jade said. Guests were slowly filing out of their chairs and heading back toward the restaurant for cocktails. "I'm going to take her to potty, you can go get a drink."

"I can take her."

"It's fine, Eli. Go be with your friends."

Weevil watched Jade and Valentina slowly make their way back through the sand and up to the restaurant.

 **XXXX**

Weevil milled around the cocktail hour, not really staying too long in any one conversation. He wanted more to be near Jade and Valentina, but his daughter had gotten a sudden burst of energy, so Jade took her out close to the edge of the restaurant to let her run around. He'd asked Jade if she wanted him to tag along, but she'd said no again, and while he wanted to ignore that and do it anyway, pissing her off at the moment seemed more likely than anything else.

He sidled up to the bar and ordered a beer, turning to watch the groups of revelers.

"Hey man," Wallace said, sidling up to him.

"Hey," Weevil replied, his eyes drifting towards where he could just make out Jade following behind a frolicking Valentina.

"How'd you manage to get Jade to agree to come?"

Weevil shrugged. "Through force of will, I guess. So far, I'm pretty sure she's wishing she was any place else."

Wallace clapped Weevil on the back. "I'm sorry, but hey! The night is still young, there's gonna be dancing and all that. It's a party, maybe she'll come around."

"Whatever you say."

 **XXXX**

Weevil pulled out Jade's chair, sliding it back in slowly as she sat. He took his seat beside her, Valentina hanging over his shoulder, waving at someone who was waving at her.

They watched as Logan and Veronica came in and danced their first dance. Jade sat with her back straight, no obvious emotion on her face, her fingers resting lightly on top of the table.

When their dance finished, Weevil looked across the table to see Norris Clayton and a woman he recognized from Mars Investigations, but whose name escaped him at the moment.

"Eli Navarro," Norris said lightly. "I didn't realize you'd be here."

"I didn't realize you'd be here, either, but then again, should've figured Veronica has a friend or two down at the Sheriff's Department."

Norris inclined his head and moved his gaze toward Jade.

"Oh, this is-" Weevil faltered for a moment. Jade _was_ still his wife, albeit estranged, but was that necessary to point out in their current setting? "This is my daughter, Valentina," Weevil said first, "and my wife, Jade."

Norris nodded. "It's nice to meet you Jade and Valentina." Valentina smiled and waved at him, making Norris laugh and wave back.

"How do you know Eli?" Jade asked, a little bit of wariness obvious in her tone. Given all the problems Weevil'd had with the Sheriff's department, he wasn't surprised. Jade perhaps didn't want to still be married to him, but she still seemed pretty protective.

"Eli and I went to Neptune together."

"Ah," Jade said shortly. "I didn't realize that Veronica and Logan kept so many of their friends from high school."

"Well," Norris started easily, grabbing his fork and pushing his salad around his plate. "Veronica has a...way about her. She's special. It's hard to shake her."

"So I've gathered," Jade gave a wan smile, turning her attention back toward the front of the space where Keith Mars just stood to give his toast.

Weevil's eyes tracked over to Norris and he shook his head at the man, not really sure if any message he was trying to send made it through.

Weevil did his best to block out whatever nonsense Dick had to say in his toast, but took enjoyment in watching an increasingly nervous Logan stare at his friend. Veronica looked ready to throwdown, and Weevil actually hoped for it. Maybe it would give him the opportunity to think about something other than the waves of discontent pouring off his wife.

 **XXXX**

Weevil chose the filet for himself, while Jade chose the chicken. Each of them cut up pieces of their entrees for Valentina, not ordering her an entire meal because they knew she was too picky to finish everything that came on the plate.

Conversation at their table was stilted, even after Lisa- _yes, that's her name!_ -joined in, trying to coax a leery Jade into talking.

"So," Norris began, completely ignoring the mood, or not caring, "what's the last thing Veronica had you do for her?"

Jade's fork slipped a little in her hand before she set it down with a slight clink on the side of the plate.

"Uh," Weevil started uneasily. "Nothing too major, man, you know how Veronica can be." He could feel Jade's eyes on him and avoided turning in her direction.

"That's for sure," Norris chuckled, completely missing the mood shift. "But Veronica is one of the best people I know. Don't tell her that, she'd definitely use that against me. But, I wouldn't be where I am today if she hadn't helped me out all those years ago."

"Yeah," Weevil agreed. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Norris nodded along, he knew enough about Weevil and his case, and what had happened to not need him to expound any further.

"I guess we both owe a lot to Veronica, then," Norris said, raising his glass to Weevil.

Jade made a derisive sound beside him and Weevil watched as Norris' eyes cut toward Jade.

"Yes, Saint Veronica to the rescue," Jade muttered, picking up her glass of wine and taking a healthy sip.

Weevil felt his shoulders drop a little at the grimace that crossed Norris' face. He shook his head at the other man, trying to tell him not to worry about it.

Weevil caught the movement of the bride and groom out of the corner of his eye. He picked up his fork and started shoveling food with a little more gusto than necessary in hopes of avoiding conversation. Jade was already on edge, not at all helped by the ebullience of everyone around them.

"Easy there Weevs," Logan's voice sounded beside him, "it's not chow time in the joint."

Weevil smirked at Logan. "Really? It tastes just the same."

He felt more than heard Jade's exasperated sigh. Weevil turned to her and saw her face set in an angry glare; however, it wasn't directed at him—but Veronica and Logan.

"Thank you for coming," Logan said, and Weevil heard all the humor fall from his voice. "Are you having a good time?"

Weevil rolled his eyes and sent up a silent prayer that Jade wouldn't actually say how she felt.

"Congratulations," Jade murmured in a tone just this side of frosty.

"Thank you," Veronica replied with a small smile. She cut her eyes to Weevil, and her smile softened a little, head tilting slightly. Weevil bit back a grimace. "We'll leave you all to your dinner. Thank you for coming."

Veronica and Logan left and the mood at the table darkened considerably.

"Excuse me for a moment," Jade said, not waiting for a reply. Norris tried to stand as she quickly exited the table.

"Man, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't worry about it," Weevil interrupted, holding onto Valentina a little tighter.

 **XXXX**

Once the dance floor was opened to everyone, nothing could stop Valentina Navarro from wanting to get out there and jump up and down. She drew smiles and warm laughter with her effervescence, and he only hoped that she would be easier to put to sleep when the evening ended.

Weevil walked them back to their table, determined to at least try to get Jade out of the funk that was over her.

"Would you like to dance?" Weevil asked Jade as he returned to the table with a semi-exhausted Valentina, laying her down across his vacated seat and the one beside it.

"Who's going to watch Valentina?" Jade replied.

"Oh, I don't mind watching her," Lisa cut in. "That is, if you're going to-"

"Thank you, Lisa," Weevil said, wasting no time pulling Jade from her seat and walking her to the dance floor. He pulled her close, but not too close, his right hand coming to rest in the middle of her back while his left gripped her right out at their sides.

They swayed silently for a little while. He was content to just have her in his arms again, until she spoke.

"Eli," Jade started looking up at him. "Look, I know I haven't been the best company today and I'm sorry for that. These are your friends and I know you're happy for them, but I can't help but think so much of my life has been interrupted by Veronica Mars. And I'm-" she paused briefly, looking away. "I hope you don't think that this is going to change anything. I don't want to get back together. We'll be amicable because Valentina adores you and I would never ruin her image of you, but-this shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have come with you today. I'm sorry."

Weevil didn't have much hope, but what he did have faded quickly and steadily, like air being let out of a balloon.

"Alright," he replied. "That's fine, Jade. I mean-hell-it's _not_ fine, but if that's the way you want it, then I guess I'll just have to…"

"Eli-"

"No, it's alright." He backed away from her as the song ended and the announcement was made for the cake cutting. "We'll go after this, okay?"

Jade nodded at him as they made their way back to their table. He picked up a-once again-sleepy Valentina, and held her close as he watched Veronica turn her head into Logan's shoulder, tears making themselves known on her face.

He watched them cut the cake together, smiling and happy, and enjoying a life he'd once had.

 **XXXX**

Weevil slowly made his way toward the bride and groom, cutting in before they could make their way down the dessert bar.

"Never thought I'd see this day," Weevil teased, "but I'm glad I did. I'm happy for you, V."

Veronica beamed up at him and hugged him. He looked over her shoulder and nodded toward Logan, understanding clear between them.

"Thank you for coming today, Eli," Veronica spoke softly. "And I'm so sorry about-"

"Nope," Weevil interrupted. "None of that. You two, I swear. It's your day, have fun. Eat some good dessert for me. We're heading home."

Weevil did his best to ignore Veronica's small frown and the direction of her eyes.

"Seriously, V. Go and enjoy the rest of your night, and I'm-I'm happy for you. And I wish you all the good things, yeah?"

"Thanks, Weevs," Logan said, clapping him on the back. "Have a safe trip back, man."

Weevil nodded and turned from the newlyweds to where his soon-to-be-ex-wife stood at the front entrance, Valentina draped over her shoulder.

He looked back briefly and saw Logan and Veronica standing close to one another, Logan lowering his head to kiss the tip of Veronica's nose.

He did his best to shake away the envy, knowing that their story hadn't been easy, but wishing he got to have his fairytale ending, too.


	5. TRINA by Bryrosea

**TRINA by Bryrosea**

"Ohhh," the saleslady crooned as she looked at Trina in the large mirror. " _So_ beautiful and chic."

The purple strapless dress hugged Trina's upper body and hips, before falling to the floor in a deep, cascading flounce. Not overly puffy but, Trina thought, combined with the vibrant color, the skirt was still dramatic enough to add a bit of interest.

The clerk bent down and fluffed the sides of the skirt, cocking her head admiringly. "What event will you be wearing this to, Ms. Echolls?"

Growing up, Trina hadn't had much respect for Lynn, but one thing that her stepmother told her had stuck: for awards season, pick a small upscale boutique to patronize. They're much more eager to please than a big name designer and usually dazzled by the idea of making red carpet wear. Lynn was right; the small shop she'd found on the edge of the garment district had indeed been eager to help dress her for the awards circuit as _Blood Lilly_ vied for an Oscar in January. The other dresses she'd bought here would all make their appearance at premiers and ceremonies. Trina felt a glow of triumph at the thought. But this dress… she smoothed the fabric along her hips. "Oh, this is for a wedding."

"A wedding?" The clerk's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"A _family_ wedding," Trina clarified, and even she could hear the hesitancy in her voice at the designation, so she added with more emphasis. "My brother."

"Ah, an elegant affair?"

She shimmied her hips a bit, making the skirt of the dress flutter prettily. "A small andintimate _soirée_ , on the beach in San Diego."

Up went the clerk's eyebrows again and she scanned the dress, clearly doubting its suitability for a beach wedding, but Trina didn't care. Logan was getting married, and he wanted her there—enough to offer to book her a suite at the hotel. So she would be there, with all of the style and glamour she could muster, to show him and the whole world how happy she was for her brother.

 _My baby brother._

 **XXXX**

Even an eye mask and a white noise soundtrack on repeat in her headphones couldn't make the red-eye from New York to California the venue for a good night's sleep. Trina was exhausted when Logan's friend Jake picked her up at the airport—but not so exhausted that she didn't notice the great set of shoulders he had, or the way his muscles bunched as he hoisted her luggage into the car.

Once they were on the road, Jake had convinced her that it was far too early to impose on Veronica-what bride didn't need her beauty rest after all?-and they had headed to Neptune. Trina chattered along gaily—always her go-to in unfamiliar situations, and around attractive men. Jake was polite and engaging in return, she thought; a hint of a spark there, maybe. So gratifying now that Logan's friends were of an age where—well, the whole thing would have been creepy in high school, but it was all right now—they were both adults.

Jake, so very solicitous, must have noticed how tired she was, because he interrupted her really funny story about the mix-up the boutique had in ordering fabric to complement her shoes—hilarious, really, she'd have to trot it out at parties—to suggest that she lie back and get some sleep. He switched the radio over to something soothing and classical and turned it up a little, considerately releasing her from thinking she had to keep entertaining him.

Trina favored him with a glowing look and then settled back into her seat and a fantasy where the minivan transformed into a Porsche Boxster and she and Jake were laughing, driving down the PCH, wind blowing her hair glamorously back in perfect waves. Jake was somehow suddenly shirtless…

 **XXXX**

Trina woke up in front of Keith Mars' quaint little house—like a little cottage in a story—and brushed the hair out of her eyes, careful of her make-up. Impatient to see her niece, she hopped out of the minivan, leaving Jake to manage her luggage. Unfortunately, she was met at the door by Jake's mother Dottie and corralled into small talk in the kitchen. The woman had clearly spent the night— _really, sleepovers at their age, a little pathetic if you ask me_. Trina, though, was never one to judge. She was a liberal, and old people probably deserved a sexual revolution, too.

She let her innate good manners come to the fore and bridged over any awkwardness by launching into the story of her New York shopping trip. She'd only made it to the third day and the terribly amusing coincidence of running into her former co-star on CSI, Marg Helgenberger, when Jake struggled in with the last of her steamer trunks. Trina waved him over to the table, hoping he'd sit down so that she could admire those deltoids from up close again, but he dropped a kiss on his mother's cheek and left hastily, keen not to be late picking up Logan, she was sure.

So nice how devoted Logan's friends were.

Trina was about to launch back into her account of the New York trip, when Keith Mars finally appeared from the back of the house.

"Dot, she's got her shorts off again and she won't let—Trina! Ah, nice to see you."

While Dottie hastily excused herself, presumably to go see to Wyatt, Trina stood, smiling at her host. She avoided the hand he held out and swooped in to plant a kiss on his cheek. Mr. Mars was too, too cute. Like a little gnome of a man.

"Nice to see you, too, Mr. Mars—Keith. I was wondering where you were! Dottie was just telling me all of the gossip about the wedding. I can't wait to see Veronica; I'm sure you're so proud of her today!"

He smiled gently. "Well, happy for her, yes. I've always been proud."

Trina bit her lip at the sudden twist in her gut.

 _Happy, Trina. Active and happy. Don't wallow._

A sudden squeal sounded from the back of the house, followed by the ungainly slap-slap sound of toddler feet on parquet.

"Gwampa!" Wyatt Leigh Echolls burst around the corner, clothed in miniature jean shorts and a skull-and-bones t-shirt. She launched herself at Keith's leg, clutching at the fabric of his jeans and giggling madly.

Keith made an exaggeratedly comical face down at her. "Are you on the run, sweet pea? Evil pirates?" He hoisted Wyatt up by the waist and held her upside down in the air while she shrieked with laughter.

Trina put out a hand in alarm. "Oh! I don't think—"

Keith set Wyatt down on the ground carefully and she squealed, running away from him and in the direction of the living room.

He turned his head toward Trina, "Sorry, I'd better…" He jerked his head toward the next room, where the squeals had changed into a rambling, somewhat tuneful, melody with random syllables. "You should come say hi."

Her niece was a powerful lure, and Trina had fully intended to spend some good old fashioned bonding time with the little girl, but the reality of the solid toddler—all of Logan's restless energy and a piercing squeal to go with it—was suddenly somewhat daunting. Nonetheless, she followed Keith into the living room.

During her moment of indecision, the situation in toddler-ville appeared to have calmed down a little bit. When she entered the room, Wyatt was sitting on the floor, breathlessly singing a song to herself—Trina belatedly recognized "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star"—and squeezing a grubby stuffed bunny to her chest.

Keith rolled his eyes. "Wy, lighten up on Cuddles," he said, without any apparent expectation of compliance. "He can't breathe."

Trina crouched down in front of her niece. Smoothing her pencil skirt carefully over her thighs, she said quietly, "Hi, LeeLee, it's Auntie Trina, remember me?"

The little girl didn't look up or acknowledge her.

"Wyatt," Keith said from behind her, in a much more commanding tone than previously. "Say hi to your Aunt."

The little girl looked up and Trina frowned. Whatever had possessed Logan to name his daughter such a mannish name? She was such a pretty little thing, so soft and feminine, and 'Wyatt' was so… _hard_. What, was she supposed to be buying her niece baby leather motorcycle jackets? She wondered that Veronica hadn't blocked his choice, or fought to call her Leigh, at least…

At her grandfather's prompting, the baby beamed brightly up at Trina and flapped her hand open and closed in a waving motion, before returning her attention to the bunny. Ah well, she'd call the girl by her beautiful middle name and maybe one day, when LeeLee was older, she and her parents would realize it suited her much better. Surely Veronica would be grateful.

Dottie returned to the room. "Keith," she said, sounding harassed, "the arbor for the ceremony just got here, but it's still at the store, and apparently their delivery van is broken and, I don't know…" She sliced a hand through the air, clearly over her limit for excuses. "I'll need to take it to the ceremony site with us, where Dick's staff can put it together, and I need you to help me load it into the car. Get Wyatt's things together as quickly as you can and—"

"I can watch her!" Trina chimed in brightly.

Dottie looked over at her with an insulting amount of surprise. "Oh! Well that—"

"I _am_ her Aunt after all. We'll do just fine!"

Trina let her posture radiate I'm-a-confident-adult. A pose she'd used to her advantage sneaking into Hollywood clubs many times in her wilder teen years. LeeLee was quiet, having crawled her way across the room with her bunny to play with a jumble of blocks near the couch.

Dottie wavered and turned to Keith, who looked over at the clock.

"We need to go now if we want to be back here in time to get the car packed for the drive down."

The two exchanged a speaking glance, and Dottie turned to Trina with brisk efficiency.

"She was just changed, so she shouldn't need a fresh diaper."

Trina's eyes widened. _She's still wearing a diaper? Isn't she a little old for that? She's walking!_

Dottie continued blithely, not at all concerned by the poor child's deficiencies. "But if she does, they're back in the spare bedroom on top of the dresser. The emergency numbers are on the fridge. Veronica's cell is..." She turned. "Keith, maybe we should just take her with us."

"We'll be back in twenty minutes," Keith assured both of them, but he couldn't stop the worried frown from crinkling his brow.

Trina smiled reassuringly. "We'll be here! Ooh!" She gasped in excitement. "I know, maybe we'll try on the dress I bought her to wear today."

"A dress?" Dottie asked, in surprise.

"Oh it is so darling, just wait until you see it. I had it made special by the dearest little boutique. All of these layers of tulle, and _pink._ Perfect for Dad—"

"Uh! Uh!" Keith Mars' eyes bulged comically in warning and he cut a meaningful glance in LeeLee's direction and Trina, confused, continued somewhat lamely.

"Well, she'll look just like the sweetest princess."

"Of course, dear" —Dottie smiled— "But Veronica does already have a dress picked out for her to wear today. Perhaps some other time. At Christmas, maybe?"

Trina frowned, but decided not to argue with the woman. This was a family matter. She'd just try the dress on LeeLee and let everyone see how beautiful she looked.

"We'll head out now—won't be gone long. Oh, and Trina?" Keith steered her a few steps away and lowered his voice. "Don't mention L-O-G-A-N around her; she's been stuck to him like glue since he got home and if she hears you say his name or D-A-" He darted a quick glance at the baby —happily oblivious and pushing over the tower of plastic blocks in front of her with a chortled "guh booooom"— and then continued, "Well, you know. If she hears you mention him she'll be hard to calm down."

Trina nodded a little nervously and settled herself on the couch as Keith and Dottie left on their errand.

At first, all seemed quiet. Wyatt was occupied with her blocks, smacking them together and occasionally holding one up for Trina's approval.

"What a nice block, darling. That red one goes beautifully with the orange one in your other hand."

The baby shrieked a giggle, and then suddenly tossed out her hands, flinging both blocks to the ground.

"Now, LeeLee, don't throw, it's not nice for young ladies to—"

While Trina watched, her niece pushed herself up to her feet, tucked the stuffed bunny determinedly under one arm, and made a rapid dash for the kitchen. The kitchen! There were all sorts of knives and hot things and—and—Trina leapt up off the couch, stumbling slightly as her kitten heels caught on the edge of the area rug, and scooped the baby up just as she crossed the tiled threshold.

Heart pounding, she clutched a pouting Wyatt to her side. That could have been a disaster! People weren't careful enough with their children. How could Keith Mars just leave the baby free to roam around like that? She could hurt herself anywhere. The baby was squirming and kicking Trina's sides now, making whimpering noises and clearly annoyed at being thwarted.

"No! Dow! Me dow!" Wyatt arced her back into a big curve away from Trina's body, making her strain not to drop the little girl. She caught a glimpse of Wyatt's face, starting to go bright red and, in expression, a perfect mirror of Veronica's when Trina had kindly suggested the last time she was in town that there was really no need to have dessert with dinner every night.

"Dow!"

 _Down?_ No! The kitchen was still too close. Trina scooped up the stuffed bunny Wyatt had dropped and offered it to her. The little girl threw it to the ground again and her whimpers began escalating, tiny knees jabbing into Trina's side. Trina could feel her own inner panic begin to climb as well. She couldn't put LeeLee down here—she would clearly go running right back into the kitchen. Mr. Mars must have some sort of…pen or room where the baby could be kept safe, but where was it? There wasn't time to go looking, all signs were pointing to the beginning of a full-fledged tantrum. She needed a distraction.

 _Of course!_

"LeeLee," she began, jiggling her niece up and down on her hip out of desperation.

"Nuh! Nuh! Nooo!" The baby's flailing body seemed to grow heavier and more unwieldy with each passing second.

"LeeLee, Auntie Trina brought you a present."

Another whimper, "Dowww?"

More jiggling. "It's a big, beautiful _princess dress_." Trina gasped in faux-wonder, trying not to let her inner terror and uncertainty show. A critic had once said she couldn't act well enough to fool a simpleton. Well, she'd have to see how she did with a toddler. "It's pink and pretty, and it's got _sparkles_ all over it."

Trina kept her voice full of excitement and added a singular jazz hand to convey the degree of enthusiasm she felt sparkles deserved.

Wyatt squirmed again, and her voice maintained the tenor of a baby tragedienne, but she did venture a small, pathetic, " 'Parkles?"

"Yes!" Trina widened her eyes manically; glad that the extra she'd paid to have Swarovski crystals embedded in the dress's tulle overlay wouldn't go unappreciated. "Yes, sparkles! And a big puffy skirt. Oh, you'll look so pretty, LeeLee."

Wyatt cocked her head, clearly still uncertain.

"You'll look just like a beautiful princess! Now don't you want to try on your pretty dress?"

"Me d'ess!"

Trina, taking that for agreement, sighed with relief. "Of course! Let's go put it on and we can play tea party. Your bunny can come!"

 **XXXX**

It turns out that eighteen-month-olds aren't much for playing tea party. She had managed to wrestle Wyatt into the dress—despite her howls of "me do!" the baby hadn't been much help, exhibiting all of the properties of a very wiggly, very heavy noodle. Wyatt _had_ had fun though, repeatedly dropping the pretty cups Trina had found for them to use.

Really, Trina sighed, propping her feet up on the couch's ottoman as she listened to the sounds of carpet being scrubbed in the next room,it had perhaps been unwise to try to substitute chocolate milk for tea. The drink had wound up splashed up all over the floor and along the front of the couture toddler dress she'd commissioned while in New York. Not her best decision ever, maybe, but LeeLee did look darling in it, and she was sure Veronica wouldn't mind taking it to a specialty dry-cleaner.

And, really, Dottie had been very gracious about cleaning up the mess.

An hour later, it was nearly time to go. Keith was going to drop Trina and Wyatt and Dottie off at the hotel where Mac and Veronica had been all morning for lunch, while he met Logan.

Keith and Dottie had retreated back to the bedroom to pack up some of the baby's stuff. Dottie had tried to take the baby with her, but Trina had—really graciously, she thought—offered to watch her again while they organized logistics. Dottie had seemed strangely reluctant to leave LeeLee with her for a second time.

It really was sweet how attached the older woman had gotten to her niece, given that she wasn't even family.

Wyatt was out of the princess dress and back in the jean shorts and t-shirt she had been wearing when Trina arrived. She ran happily in circles, pushing an empty plastic laundry basket in front of her on the carpet and making delighted noises.

 _Surely she'll tire herself out soon enough._

Trina leaned forward, wearily propping her elbows on her knees. "Is that a boat like Da—is that a boat, LeeLee?"

"Boat!" The little girl exclaimed as she smacked the bin repeatedly into the front of the couch. Once the couch refused to budge under her onslaught, Wyatt abruptly changed tactics, hoisting herself up and trying to heave her body into the laundry basket as it threatened to tip over onto her.

 _Oh no!_ Trina lunged forward, grabbing Wyatt under the armpits before she could come to grief and holding her, dangling rather awkwardly, in the air over the bin. The little girl began to kick her legs and let out a whine, so Trina, slightly panicked, set her carefully in the laundry basket and handed her Cuddles, before settling onto the floor next to the basket, one hand on the edge to make sure— _make sure what, Trina? What calamity are you qualified to avert?_ —just to make sure.

The world had always been full of calamities for Trina, but she'd learned to ignore them rather than dealing with them. Dealing with them was too…

She watched the little girl—her _niece_ , her own niece—as she played with her bunny in the basket, sunlight shining on her wispy blonde hair, her sweet toddler babble filling the air. All of a sudden, emotion rushed over Trina. She leaned over and scooped Wyatt up, hugging her tightly. The little girl made a warm weight in her arms, soft and smelling of a heady combination of chocolate milk, baby shampoo, and innocence. Trina could feel her throat tighten. Wyatt submitted to the hug, but kept babble-conversing with the stuffed bunny.

Trina breathed through the nearly overwhelming tide flooding her, making an effort to loosen her grip on Wyatt's t-shirt.

"LeeLee," she said, biting her lip as the little girl looked up into her face, " _Wyatt_. Do you…do you know what to do if an adult ever hurts you or does something you don't want them to do?"

Wyatt leaned back and cocked her head at Trina and said something she couldn't understand that sounded like, "Huddo do't?"

"Oh god," Trina laughed a little wetly, "This is probably pretty far beyond you, isn't it, baby girl?"

Wyatt wriggled a little, the hand with her stuffed bunny mashing against Trina's neck. She squeezed her niece tighter.

"I'm glad," she said fiercely. "I'm glad it's beyond you. I hope it always stays that way." She took in a shuddering breath. "Just listen to silly Auntie Trina, baby…you can always, _always_ tell me anything. I will always believe you."

She stroked the baby's hair softly and dipped her head down to press her nose against the warm center of Wyatt's head. After a moment, the little girl wriggled to get out of Trina's grasp. Trina gave her one last squeeze and then released her, steadying her with trembling hands.

Wyatt made to trundle away, then turned back around and held her bunny artlessly out to her aunt.

"For me, LeeLee?" Trina breathed out a laugh and took the grubby animal gingerly. "Thank you."

Wyatt tilted her head and gave her a smile of heartbreaking cuteness before running back in the direction of the bedroom just as Keith emerged.

He clapped his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road!"

 **XXXX**

Trina knew that Logan liked to tell himself that he'd moved beyond his rich-kid upbringing and that he valued the simple things in life. But, she thought in satisfaction as she looked around the hotel room he'd booked for Mac —a woman who wasn't even his family- some things you can never give up, and a taste for luxury is one of them. There were plenty of hotels Logan could have put his guests up in on the nights surrounding his wedding, but L'Auberge Del Mar was a luxury boutique hotel, and among the swankiest in San Diego. When they'd talked on the phone, all Logan had mentioned was that it was "convenient" to the ceremony location.

Dottie and Wyatt had checked in and gotten to Mac's room before Trina had. She'd been held up in the hallway by a mysterious phone call. Her phone had buzzed the distinctive cadence she'd set for the press contacts she had; in the run-up for awards season she'd done a few pressers and was eager to do more. All in the name of publicizing the movie, of course. She was half-way to answering, when she noticed the name displayed: The Inquisitor. _A tabloid._ Trina frowned at her phone and sent the call to voicemail. It rang again almost immediately. The Inquisitor.

This time she let it keep ringing. What could the paparazzi possibly want? Conner's new arm candy had probably said something catty about her again. She'd had about two weeks of unwanted calls after the woman had referred to her on record as "incompetent" and "obsessed with Conner." Trina shook her head, _how moronic could one airhead be_? Conner's people had surely told her in no uncertain terms to shut her yap around the press after that last incident. His handlers were no joke.

After the second call, she'd blocked _The Inquisitor_ 's number on her phone and continued blithely to Mac's room, determined to put her own personal problems aside, and enjoy the day.

Now she watched as Veronica and Mac and Dottie bustled around the room, setting something-or-other to rights that could probably have been left to staff. Veronica had Wyatt on one hip. As they worked, the three women talked to each other with the ease of long acquaintance. Mac was making jokes about where Logan and the boys were now, and about Veronica's insistence that Logan have a clean shave on this, his wedding day. Dottie groaned and threw her hands over her ears, laughingly. When the implication hit Trina, she frowned, _hey now. That is my brother._ She began to feel self-conscious, standing by the side of the room, doing nothing.

"I can't wait to try the massage services here!" she piped in. "This has been such a tense week." Trina spoke brightly, and the eyes of the other women in the room turned to her for the first time.

"Travelling is such a bitch," Veronica's small friend Mac said, sympathetically, from where she was lint-rollering a dress in a really depressing navy blue shade. "You should try the Swedish massage; we had one this morning and I didn't think I would like it but it was…"she trailed off, looking at Trina's face, and finished rather lamely, "awesome."

"Oh, you've already…of course you have." Trina smiled gaily. "I'm sure it was so fabulous. I may just make myself an appointment for tomorrow."

As soon as possible after lunch, she gracefully excused herself, retiring to her room for a much needed nap.

 **XXXX**

She had been right to tell the sales clerk at the boutique that this wedding would be small and intimate. The ceremony was beautiful, heartfelt, and small, and even the bizarre vows her brother and his new wife had chosen to recite were oddly touching.

" _When someone loves you for a long time, really loves you, then you become real."_

At the memory of Veronica's words, Trina pressed the cool glass of champagne she was holding briefly to her sternum, somehow fortified by the chill against her skin. She'd felt a sort of dazed happiness since the ceremony started, joy for her brother, mingled with a lot of complicated emotions that she had no interest in examining, but which felt a bit too much like wallowing for her taste. Throughout cocktail hour and the introduction of the couple a strange mantle of melancholy had sat on her.

… _then you become real._

And what had Logan said in response? Something about it taking a long time. Trina bit her lip and took a determined swig, finishing off her glass of champagne just as Logan and Veronica's first dance song came to an end. They ended the dance in a near clutch embrace, and Veronica reached up to caress her brother on the cheek, before taking his hand and walking to the head table. It was a cliché to say that the bride was glowing—and Veronica did look gorgeous—but really it was Logan who seemed to be radiating light and happiness, lit up from the inside in a way she had never—

Trina set her now empty glass down on the table with delicate deliberation next to her untouched salad plate and turned to Jake, who was sitting at the table next to her, saying brightly, "So, how did I get so lucky as to be sitting at a table with all of these handsome men?"

"Ah, Trina," Jake hastily swallowed a mouthful of arugula and strawberry. "Did you meet my brothers? This is Patrick—" he pointed at the man sitting next to him, sharing his bone structure, but clearly younger and with that surfer/mogul vibe that seemed unique to Southern California. Patrick smiled at Trina and nodded, but stayed quiet. "And there's Nick," Jake continued, pointing at the young man with floppy hair, wearing a skinny tailored suit in electric blue, who was walking in their direction. "He's serving as the DJ for this fine affair."

Nick reached the table and leaned over to drop a kiss on the lips of Melanie, the only other woman sitting at the table. Trina had chatted with her earlier at the cocktail hour. Nick, still standing, leaned down over the one vacant seat at the table to fork up some salad. "Hey bros, just grabbing a few bites before the toasts." He chewed hastily and then smiled at Trina, waving his fork in her direction. "Yo! And who are you here with to be sitting at the family table?" He grinned irrepressibly. "Did Mom con you into bringing a date after all, Jake?"

"Shit n—I mean, no, Nick! This is Logan's _sister_ , Trina."

"Sister! Oh yeah right, of course. Logan mentioned you." His gaze bounced back and forth between her and his brothers. "Uh, I've gotta get back. Need to keep this shebang moving along." He turned his attention back to Melanie. "Save me a dance later, babe?" He flicked the back of her ear and then bounced off, back to the DJ table.

Trina let out a tinkling laugh. "Imagine that! How funny would it be if we were dating, Jake? And us both here at the _family_ table." She propped herself on one elbow and leaned toward him, not-so-accidentally flashing him a hint of her cleavage. Just a little. Not slutty, but intriguing.

A slight and becoming flush of red spread high across Jake's cheekbones.

"Jake, here, is determined to dodge Mom's attempts at matchmaking and remain a swinging bachelor." Patrick spoke at last, his voice lower and more melodic than Trina would have thought, and ripe with amusement.

"She hasn't really said much lately," Jake muttered. "This wedding…"

"Oh but soon this wedding will be over, and she'll be right back at trying to gently manage you toward grandkids."

"She has Wyatt!"

"Not the same, oh Captain, my Captain," Patrick shook his head with rueful sadness. "Not the same. Every time she says she 'just wants you to be happy,' what she's really saying is she wants grandbabies of her own, and one of us suckers is going to have to step up to the plate and give them to her."

Melanie looked up from her empty salad plate. "Not it!"

"What about you?" Jake fired back at his brother. "You haven't dated anyone seriously since whats-her-name who wore all of the mini-skirts."

"Nathalie. Ah, but I'm 'still young,' remember?" Patrick grinned at his brother. "And unlike some people at this table, I don't need to date older women to prove it."

Trina felt a stab of excitement. Jake, on the other hand, leaned over the table and pointed menacingly at his brother. "Don't you-"

Patrick carefully patted his lips with his napkin. "Cougar Town."

"Don't think that because we're at a wedding I won't end you."

"Bring it."

Their tones were joking, but with a serious under-edge that made Trina nervous. She'd realized that she didn't understand what they were really talking about and she had never been a fan of the sensation of conversation swirling around her that she wasn't a part of.

"I think it's nice that your mom wants you to be happy," Trina chimed in. She laid a hand softly on Jake's forearm. "And it's not like being in a relationship is all that bad. I, personally, love getting...close with someone." She trailed a fingernail along the inside of his wrist, a move Conner had always loved.

Jake jerked his arm out of her grasp-so discreet, such a gentleman-and just as he opened his mouth to respond Nick came on over the speakers. Conversation at the table gave way to listening to Keith Mars' welcoming speech. Trina let the words blur past her ears, focusing instead on swirling her spoon through the roasted red bell pepper soup that had been served and casting flirtatious glances at Jake.

Keith gave way to Dick —whose toast had Jake and his brothers roaring with laughter— and then to Mac.

Mac's toast was fairly basic, to Trina's mind, nothing really romantic or touching until the end, when she said, "Logan and Veronica have made this wonderful family together, and now... finally... they're exactly where they should be."

 _Family._ Everywhere that word, today.

Mac concluded her toast, and Trina fought to regain her happy. As soon as the music started back up, Trina turned eagerly back to Jake, her expectant expression freezing on her face as he pushed back from the table.

"I'm, ah, going to go check in on the guys." He nodded his head back in the direction of the two tables of Navy pilots toward the back of the room. "They were getting pretty rowdy. Wouldn't want to ruin the big day. Uh, Pat, tell the waiters." He grabbed his place card and left with a rather impressive burst of speed.

"Wow," Patrick murmured, sipping a glass of scotch. "I'm kind of looking for the Jake-shaped puff of dust that exit left behind."

At that moment the waiter came and cleared away the soup bowls in preparation for the next course, saving Trina from responding. As the risotto was served, Melanie leaned in kindly and said in a soft, husky voice that vaguely reminded Trina of Michelle Pfeiffer. "So Trina, Nick has told me all about how his family practically adopted Logan during his training. It must have been hard for you both not to be able to see each other with him all the way across the country; military families make such sacrifices."

Trina could feel her smile starting to tremble off of her lips and the swooping, stomach-sinking feeling of her evening starting to go completely off the rails. "Yes, well of course Veronica and Wyatt certainly have made sacrifices, I know. Patrick!"

He looked up, startled.

"I've been longing to dance and there's no way I'm touching that rice while I'm wearing this dress. Dance with me!"

His mouth was open slightly in surprise, but he recovered quickly and held his hand out to her with a flourish. Soon they were twirling around on the dance floor and Trina left the awkward conversation—and the carbs—behind her.

 **XXXX**

Trina managed to spend most of the rest of the night on the dance floor, rotating through most of the men—attached and unattached—who were present as partners, and having a surprisingly good time dancing and jumping around with Veronica's circle of school friends. She'd forgotten what a good time it could be to lose herself in the music with a group of girlfriends—even if they weren't hers, apparently, and even if Tracey and Jillian did press her a little aggressively for Conner Larkin stories.

She was only forced to give way for a few of the evening's events; the first to force her off the floor was the Father-Daughter dance.

When Nick took to the microphone to ask Keith and Veronica to take the floor, all of the other guests fell politely back, eager looks on their faces, hands fumbling for cameras to capture this anticipated moment. Trina began to back her way up a little more rapidly. Time for a quick trip to the powder room, or the bar…

As she edged through the crowd, she saw Keith Mars curl his hand around his daughter's waist in the traditional dance hold. Veronica smiled up at him, a daughter and her perfectly loving father; trusting, happy, no dark shadows.

Trina's high heel wobbled beneath her as she continued to back away, eyes still reluctantly glued to the couple in the center of the floor as the music began. She needed to leave, she wasn't going to be able to handle "Unforgettable" or "Butterfly Kisses" or…

The opening croon of the song gave way to the brassy bop of percussion and horns. _What on earth was this song?_ It had the cadence of a fifties rhythm & blues song, complete with background singers going "da-da-da-da-dada" between lines and it seemed to be about…gamblers?

Her retreat stopped. She shook her head; the Marses might be charming on occasion, but they sure could be odd.

 _Stagger Lee told Billy, I can't let you go with that  
You have won all my money, and my brand new stetson hat_

Keith said something to Veronica and she laughed up at him as he spun her out in a twirl and then back in, trusting him to lead. Leaning on him.

 _Kleine Schritte_ had helped Trina in a lot of ways; helped her dig back into things she'd thought she'd buried forever, taught her that bringing them into the light could somehow cauterize the wounds-never make them go away, but make them stop bleeding, stop killing her from the inside slowly, drop by drop. She'd grown up, put away some of the monsters of her youth and grabbed for a grown-up life, a grown-up _career_. But this…

Keith missed a step, throwing Veronica slightly off balance, and the two recovered quickly, She could see Veronica mouthing something at him teasingly.

…happy fathers and daughters.

Trina swallowed hard and turned her head away, spotting Logan on the edge of the dance floor, holding Wyatt in his arms and swaying back and forth to the beat of the song as they watched…his family. Logan's family.

She took a deep breath and walked toward them, a smile firmly fixed on her face, she stopped in front of them and Logan smiled back at her, simple satisfaction. _He's so happy_.

"One day that will be you and Wyatt."

"I hope so." Logan kissed the top of Wyatt's head and Trina found the words she wanted to say catching in her throat, slipping away from her.

"You're…" Her voice faltered. "She's lucky to have you." She reached out and stroked Wyatt's hair and then lightly squeezed his arm before walking away.

Escaping.

 **XXXX**

A brief breather in the bathroom, and she went right back out onto the floor. Dwelling and wallowing were the worst possible thing for her, Dr. Zmed had helped her see that there had to be a middle ground between completely ignoring problems and wallowing in them. _Get out there, Trina, be active, find your happy._

Dancing spun the time away. "You Never Can Tell," and "L-O-V-E" and "My Girl." After a disastrous early turn around the floor with Wallace, she avoided him as a partner, but kept busy with Dick and Norris, and Route, and an endless succession of Logan's other bizarrely nicknamed pilot buddies. _I mean, really, who goes around introducing himself as Dogfood?_

She stayed out on the floor for what turned out to be an all girl—plus Logan's Navy buddy Biscuit—jump-fest to the Spice Girls' "Spice Up Your Life" that left all of the participants gasping with laughter and the bride with a look of happy nostalgia.

A few more slow dances followed and Trina finally managed to snag Jake as a partner.

"So tell me, Lieutenant, what is _your_ call sign? It can't possibly be as stupid as some of the ones I've heard." She laughed, tossing her hair back enticingly.

"Um, C-Town, Chinatown."

"'Forget it, Jake. It's Chinatown!'" Trina quoted delightedly, "Oh, I get that one! I love it." Jake smiled weakly and swung her around, his eyes seeming to search over her shoulder in an odd manner. "And do you have an interest in old Hollywood movies? Is that where it comes from? I should tell you about the time I met Barbara Stanwyck when I was a young girl. It was not that long before she died, she was guesting in an action serial Da— Oh, Logan!"

And suddenly Logan was there in front of her, grinning as Jake quickly stepped away, even as the music played on.

"Jake was just telling me about his call sign."

"Yeah? Good ol' C-Town."

"I love that movie! Such a classic."

"I see he's still trying to sell the Chinatown thing."

"Is that not what it is?"

"Oh, it's C-Town, all right, we're just not quite in agreement about what the C stands for."

Before she could query him further, Michael Jackson's "The Way You Make Me Feel," began to boom out of the speakers.

"Come on Treen, let me throw you around a bit?"

"Oh, why not?"

Logan was true to his word, flinging her around the dance floor, laughing widely, and egging her into showing off their moonwalks side-by-side. Hers was still clearly superior, even after all of these years. She could practically feel Lynn there in the room with them, cranking up the music and calling out, "Logan's not too cool to dance with us ladies, are you baby?"

But eventually the song had to end and Logan moved on. Trina claimed Dick and then Patrick again-both were light-footed partners who could keep up with her moves. Then she danced three dances in a row with Logan's buddy Revlon, who, disgustingly, declared himself "single and ready to mingle," but proved surprisingly adept at dancing a slow-stepping blues with her to Ella Fitzgerald's "Someone To Watch Over Me." Trina could happily have danced several more numbers with him, but dancing could only hold back time for so long, and soon it was time for the cake cutting—the evening almost over.

The cake was a stunner, decorated with black and white photos of Logan and Veronica throughout the years, including one on the bottom tier of a five-year-old Logan—shirtless, with his bony chest stuck out and his cheeks sucked in, lips contorted into a goofy duck bill shape—that Trina remembered taking herself.

That was it from Logan's younger years. One photo. There was baby Veronica balanced on Keith's shoulders, but nothing of Logan and Lynn, or, well, anyone else. Trina's apartment didn't hold any family pictures either, so she probably shouldn't be surprised that Logan didn't want to celebrate their crappy upbringing on the happiest day of his life. She hadn't liked Lynn much—hadn't ever tried to like her, if she was honest with herself—but it felt a little hollow not to have her remembered at this event. Like everything she and Logan had shared had been rejected and wiped away in favor of the new and better life he'd built.

 _The new and better family._

And it was true, he had a real family now. One that would always have his back.

Veronica and Logan cut the cake, feeding each other small bites with goofy grins on their faces. As the cake was whisked away to be cut, Nick invited everyone to join the bride and groom on the dance floor.

The other guests scattered, some toward their tables, some to the dessert buffet, and some to join Logan and Veronica on the dance floor. Trina scanned the room, looking for a willing dance partner as the music started back up. Veronica's friend Weevil was the only man present she hadn't danced with, but both he and his wife looked grim, so that was probably a no-go.

Everyone else seemed happy, though, either dancing or gorging themselves on dessert. The freshly-cut cake was getting wheeled around and the sweet, rich smell of the sugar and butter in the fondant was practically intoxicating. A waiter handed her a plate with a very small slice on it and Trina automatically looked around for somewhere to set it down unobtrusively. Behind her, Dottie let out a loud and contented "Mmm!" as she bit into her piece. She should put the cake plate down and go back out on the dance floor and…no.

No.

This was a wedding and everyone here was happy and Trina would be happy too. She would. It was all a matter of mindset.

 _Feel it, but don't dwell on it. Don't wallow._

She opened her eyes on a fierce conviction. This was a wedding. She was going to be happy. And _dammit_ , she was going to eat some cake.

Trina scraped off a curl of cake and tapped her fork tines on the edge of the plate to shake off some of the excess frosting. Slipping the bite past her lips, she inhaled at the taste.

 _It had been so long._

The cake was almost cloyingly sweet to her taste buds, but oh god was it delicious. She shaved off another bite.

 _Enough. That would be enough._

At that moment, Veronica moved past her, headed in Wallace's direction, a smile on her face. When she spotted Trina, though, she paused for a second before heading in her direction.

"Are you…enjoying the cake?"

Trina beamed her most brilliant everything-is-amazing beam.

"Yes, it's _delicious_. A little heavy, of course. I couldn't eat another bite. These commercial bakeries always use so much fat, but really…gorgeous." She stopped and tried to let her face relax into a more comfortable expression. "It was a beautiful wedding, Veronica. I'm so happy to be here and so… Thank you for…" Her gaze unconsciously swept the room, searching for Logan, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Everything. Thank you for everything. Really."

Veronica smiled her kindest smile, sincerity softening its usual edge. "Of course, Trina. You're family."

Unable to quell the urge, Trina leaned forward and gave Veronica a hug, feeling the familiar stiffness of discomfort in her new sister-in-law's body. It seemed to melt away quicker than usual, though, and when she mentioned taking Veronica and Wyatt with her next time she went shopping in New York, Veronica's answering, "Probably not," hardly felt sarcastic at all.

She squeezed Veronica's hand one last time and told her with a smile, "You should go find your friends. I saw Wallace over there taking a second piece of cake." She waved her hand, "If he doesn't watch it, he'll grow pudgy and that is _such_ a mistake for a short man."

Veronica's grip tightened momentarily and when she spoke again her voice sounded strange. "Thanks again for coming, Trina." She turned, with a faint rustle of petticoats, and walked away—that queer, almost stalking, gait she seemed to get sometimes for no reason that Trina could discern.

Trina set her cake plate down, two bites lighter, feeling a little bloated herself. The music had started back up and she decided to take another turn or two around the dance floor before leaving, to work off some of those calories. She looked around for a partner, eyes lighting hopefully on Jake, who was standing near his mother and Melanie, when Logan appeared in front of her once again.

"One more dance before you leave, Sis?"

She placed her hand happily in his and he led her out onto the floor. Nick was playing a mashup of songs from some whiny indie band that Trina vaguely recognized, but couldn't identify off the top of her head. They were a little hard to dance to, but then she and Logan both had superb rhythm, so they managed.

Logan cocked his head. "Well, this is spectacularly inappropriate," he said wryly.

Trina listened to the lyrics for a minute.

 _Just this once for Christmas  
I want us all to be  
Like one great big happy  
Family_

"Yikes."

"Sufjan Stevens," Logan explained. "Veronica loves them."

"Well, the two of you always did have poor music tastes. Remember your fifteenth birthday?"

Logan let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. "I still can't believe you paid for Avril Lavigne to come sing as my present."

"She was _so_ big then, Logan, and _I_ can't believe you and Veronica yanked the cords out of the speakers."

"All I wanted was GTA: Vice City, Trina. It was so simple, and yet…"

"Sister knows best, Logan." She smiled fondly up at him, but the look on his face was suddenly troubled. She ran her mind over their conversation, searching for anything she might have said that— _oh_. Logan's fifteenth birthday.

After the incident with the speakers, the guests had mostly left and some of Daddy's people had been trying to talk down Avril. Logan had gone back into the house, probably to locate a stash of liquor, and found, instead, Lynn passed out in the hallway in front of his bedroom. In the furor that followed, Trina had summoned a private doctor, even though Logan had been screaming at her to call an ambulance—Aaron was out of town, doing a press event in Fiji. When the doctor had come, he'd immediately diagnosed an accidental (or was that "accidental"?) overdose on sleeping pills and booze. It had taken Lynn weeks before she left her bedroom again.

Just one more example of a time when she'd let Logan down. Actually, it was a miracle he'd invited her today. Every time she thought they'd maybe have a break-through, or be able to get past some of the things she'd done and said, memories like this one reared their ugly head.

Logan still looked lost in himself as they swayed sedately around the dance floor, the song mash-up thankfully having moved on to different lyrics.

 _And I've had enough of trouble_

 _I've been paid in full and double_

She didn't want to say anything to break his reverie. Or ruin his wonderful day. Make things worse the way she always did. But she'd been struggling with something all day. Something she could hardly put words to, something… Trina took a deep breath and deliberately loosened her hold on Logan's uniform jacket, smoothing with her thumb the fabric she'd been crushing with her grip.

"Logan…"

"Hmm?" His attention was still somewhere off in the distance.

"Veronica, um, she said a little bit ago that I was...family. I just wanted to let you know how much that…how you and Wyatt…" She inhaled a sucking breath.

"Of course you are, Treen. Of course you're family." Logan said softly, finally shifting his gaze down to look her fully in the eyes.

"Anyway, thank you so much for asking me to come, and I'm just so…" _Sorry. I'm so sorry. For everything._ "Happy for you." She bit her trembling lip. "I love you, Logie."

"Love you too, Reen."

Trina fought to recover her composure as the song came to an end. "Have an _amazing_ time in The Maldives, okay? You must do the jewelry shops on Sun Island, Katy Perry told me that they were not to be missed. And don't let Veronica stay out in the sun too much—you know she doesn't have the skin for it."

He smiled wolfishly. "Not a problem."

She slapped his arm. "Gross, baby Bro."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Take care. We'll see you at Christmas, maybe, huh?"

"Yes, of course. I'd love to. I need my baby LeeLee time!"

He shook his head a little, "Bye Treen." and walked away, back toward Veronica, who was talking to Wallace. While Trina watched, Logan caressed the back of his new wife's neck to get her attention, and she swatted at him, even as she leaned her body into his in a trusting curve.

" _It doesn't happen all at once; it takes a long time, but once you are real, it lasts for always."_


	6. DICK by Natasha0

**DICK by Marshmallowtasha**

There was something about the white noise of a kitchen in full prep mode that Dick loved, even when it was punctuated with the random curses of his pastry chef.

"Hey, Boss!" A voice broke into Dick's zen.

"Yeah, Brad, what's up? Is His Highness giving you a hard time again?" Dick lowered his knife and stepped away from the cauliflower he was chopping to turn to his sous-chef, his eyes already rolling and a call for patience in his mind. And it wasn't even nine a.m. yet. Mitch, his pastry chef, was a genius and worth every penny of his outrageous salary, but it came at the price of also dealing with the man's enormous ego.

"He says he can't possibly use the mascarpone you got for the cannoli filling. Apparently, the only acceptable way to fill a cannoli is with ricotta." Brad rolled his eyes in return and shook his head. "He said he's not gonna put them out tonight."

"Yeah, well, you can tell Mitch to suck it up and make the damn things like he's being paid to do. Ronnie likes them with mascarpone, not ricotta, and unless he wants to face the wrath of the bride and her taser, Mr. Princess better shut the fuck up! I don't have the patience for his shit today. Logan and Ronnie will get exactly what they want, or he can find himself another kitchen willing to put up with his bullshit!"

Brad's hands went up in an attempt to ward off his boss' explosion. "Whoa, Dick. Don't worry. I already handled it. I was just letting you know, so you would be ready when he inevitably complained to you."

Dick sighed. _Thank God for my people_. "Great then. Thanks Brad. Sorry for blowing up, but…" He shrugged.

"No worries, chef. I get it." Brad looked down at the half-chopped food sitting in front of Dick and nodded his chin towards it. "Do you want me to get one of the line guys to prep that stuff for you? Dave is almost done with the pears. You must have better things to do today than chop kale."

"Nah, man. I got this one."

 **XXXX**

" _Dick, for the last time, no pears!" Veronica threw her hands up in frustration and turned to Mac. "Am I speaking English? Is there a surfer word for "no pears" that I can try?"_

 _Dick had come over to present Veronica with the final menu choices after he and Mac had settled on the appetizer and dessert lists a few days before. The salad argument had been going on for weeks, and Dick being Dick, had tried to sneak_ his _choice past Veronica by burying it in the long list of food. But Veronica's skills in the food selection department were legendary for a reason, and she homed in on the offending salad within a few seconds of looking over the menu._

 _Mac chuckled and turned to Dick. "Dude, just stop already. I know you love that salad._ I _love that salad. But you know Logan doesn't eat pears, and the strawberry one with goat cheese and walnuts is fine. Besides, with all those tasty appetizers we decided on the other day, no one's gonna give a damn about the salad."_

 _Affronted, Dick sat up straight and put his hand to his heart. "Ouch, Mackie! That hurts! Every meal at Sans Souci should be memorable." Pouting, Dick deflated. "Fine. It's your wedding. But I go to a lot of weddings, Ronnie. I know what people like. Trust me, even Logan will love it."_

" _No. Decision made. Done. Moving on." She changed the subject. "Now for the cake, I found a bakery—"_

" _No!" Both Veronica and Mac were surprised by his vehement reaction. Dick toned it down. "Uh, my pastry chef has got it covered. Dark chocolate raspberry, whipped cream- you'll love it."_

 **XXXX**

Dick frowned at the chopped vegetables in front of him. He'd better go make nice to His Highness before Mitch did something strange with the cake like stuff it with ricotta cheese. That was his gift for Logan and Veronica and he didn't need Mitch fucking it up to spite him.

He finished preparing the cauliflower steak and measuring the ingredients for the sauce before leaving everything to finish closer to mealtime. Wiping his hands, he went to make peace with the temperamental chef and then left to pick up Logan for their surfing man-date.

 **XXXX**

Covered in sand and smelling like the ocean, Dick and Logan had made their way back to the hotel to shower and were now on their way to meet the rest of the guys for lunch and cigars. The windows were down and the tunes were blaring as they pulled up to a stoplight next to a convertible full of bikini-clad co-eds. The girls, spotting the hot guys in the truck next to them, flipped their hair and smiled seductively. Dick slung his hand over the steering wheel and lowered his Ray-Bans, smirking back and winking. The light turned green and Logan smacked his shoulder. "C'mon, Loverboy. We've got a schedule to keep."

Dick pushed his glasses back and gunned through the intersection. "Relax your tail feathers, big boy. Daddy's just checking out the view."

Logan groaned. "There's more to life than strippers and bikini babes, Dick."

Dick shook his head free of images of clear blue eyes and laptops, refusing to even acknowledge their appearance. "Whatever, man. Just because you're throwing your life into the crapper, doesn't mean we all need to."

They remained quiet for a few moments, then Logan lowered the radio and turned toward his friend. "Look, Dick…I, uh, wanted to say thanks again for helping with the wedding and for –" Logan took a deep breath. "- keeping an eye on Veronica and the baby while I was gone."

Dick glanced over, eyebrow cocked. "Man, you're all emo today, aren't you? Isn't it the bride who's supposed to be weepy? Well, you always were the girl in your relationship." Logan punched his shoulder. "Hey! Ow!"

"Shut up, asshole. What I'm trying to say is that I know that you're upset about the best man thing –"

"Who told you-?"

"Would you plug your pie-hole for one minute?" Logan raised his eyes to the heavens. "Christ Almighty, I'm talking to a toddler. Look, I could see you pouting from the middle of the damn ocean." Logan laughed when Dick shut his mouth and went into full pouting mode. "And every time it comes up, you make that face."

Mutinous, Dick slammed into a parking spot at the cigar bar and glared at Logan. "Yeah, well…I have been nothing but supportive of your – thing – whatever – with Ronnie."

Logan smirked. "You laughed until you hyperventilated when I asked for your help to propose."

"Hey! It wasn't only me! Mac and Wally laughed, too! There was no way we thought she'd say yes. We even had the pity party all ready for you." Dick confided. "I rented our suite at the Grand, put the cleaning crew on stand-by and everything. Just like old times, dude. Ah, well. I'm glad it worked out for you guys. But I _earned_ that Best Man title." Under his breath, he mumbled, "And it's not like I'll get another chance."

Logan heard him and sobered. "I'm sorry, Dick. You really did earn it. It's just, I couldn't-" Logan cut himself off and took a deep breath. "We decided to keep it simple."

Dick, knowing full well that he was completely ruining his image with this conversation, couldn't resist finishing Logan's sentence, "You couldn't not choose Jake." _God, I'm such a tween girl._ He couldn't even look at Logan while he said it.

"I couldn't not choose you either. Look, I know how you feel about Jake and the other guys." As Dick started to protest, Logan put up a stalling hand. "No, it's alright. I know you like them well enough, but you don't _get_ it and I don't expect you to. Jake and I…. he's my brother, man. And not just because of the Navy shit we survived. Dottie, Tommy, they took me in and taught me what a family is."

Dick sighed. "Yeah, you've said that before. Whatever, enough with the emo crap –"

"I'm not finished. The thing is, you and me, we went through our own kind of war, and dug our own trenches. It's just that ours were in luxury hotel rooms and had room service. Doesn't mean we didn't fight our own battles. And survive them. Together. You're as much my brother as he is, Dick. Don't you forget it, man. I'm just...not that guy anymore. And you aren't either. Most days, anyway." Logan smirked and slapped Dick on the back. He reached for the door handle and added, "Now let's go get our hair braided and our nails done. Girl talk is over."

Logan slammed the car door and headed for the cigar bar, but Dick still sat motionless in the car, absorbing what he just heard. A wide grin spread over his face and his cheeks flushed with pleasure. Suddenly, he fumbled frantically for his phone and hit the quick dial button for the restaurant. "Brad! Don't argue with me, just listen. Do not, I repeat, do not use the pears for the salad. We're changing it for that strawberry, goat cheese, walnut thing. I said don't argue with me! I'll pick up all the ingredients right after I'm done with lunch and run them over … I don't know what to do with the pears! Send them to the food bank or something, but get rid of them! Later." With that, he jumped out of the car and followed his brother inside.

 **XXXX**

Several "brooding-Logan" stories later, they were leaving the cigar lounge when Dick felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was a text from Veronica. He checked for Logan's whereabouts -cornered by Weevil- and walked outside, phone in hand.

 _To: Dick_

 _From: Veronica_

 _12:45pm Did you take care of it?_

 _To: Veronica_

 _From: Dick_

 _12:47pm Don't worry your pretty little head, Ronnie. It's under control._

 _To: Dick_

 _From: Veronica_

 _12:48pm My pretty little foot will kick your ass if L hears one word about this!_

Seeing Logan and Jake walk out the door, he tucked his phone back in his pocket and walked with them to Jake's mom-mobile. Conveniently arranging it so that Logan rode with Jake to the salon, Dick took his quick detour to the restaurant to drop off the salad ingredients and fix the menu cards. He was in and out so fast that all his staff registered were the wafts of cigars and brandy overlaying a hint of salty ocean that breezed through the kitchen.

The salon was in the same neighborhood as the bar that the guys had been to the week before for the start of Logan's bachelor party, which itself was next to the girlie bar that Dick had tried to move the party to. He still couldn't understand how a bachelor party —a bachelor party that HE organized— did not have one stripper. _That's the whole damn point!_

 **XXXX**

" _No."_

" _But, dude! C'mon! It's, like, a tradition or something."_

" _There is nothing I could see there that even remotely comes close to what I have at home. No."_

" _But, duuuude, there's this one chick, Candi, she can –"_

" _Shut. It."_

" _You're so fucking whipped." Dick hung his head and shook it dejectedly. "Think of the rest of us. All your Navy buddies. They expect it! You're fucking with my best man cred, here."_

" _I don't have a best man, Dick."_

" _Whatever. Who the fuck else was going to make sure you get to sow your wild oats one last time before they get stuffed into your ballsack and locked in a vise for the rest of your life?"_

" _You think they aren't in a vise already?" Wallace piped up from down the bar, a wry grin on his face._

" _Dick does have a point, Mouth," Dogfood added a little too eagerly._

" _First of all," Logan pointed at Wallace, "I expect you to have my back when your bestie isn't around." Logan spun on his stool until his finger pointed at his squad mate. "And_ you _, Jessica would kill you, and I won't let you sabotage the best thing that's happened to you since you were winged, I don't care how scared you are of commitment, asshole." Dogfood had the decency to look slightly ashamed._

" _Don't know what you expected from the guys," Jake added. "They've been stuck on that tin can for months with the likes of your ass. Can't blame them if they want to see a prettier one now that they have the chance."_

" _You can't seriously want to go watch strippers, too?" Logan asked, surprised._

" _I'm way too classy for that, brother! I was just thinking of the other guys' best interests," Jake replied magnanimously._

 _Logan snorted. "Sure, Classy Town, whatever you say. You're a real leader of men, thinking of the guys' needs. Forget it. Not gonna happen." He got up from his barstool. "Now let's just go back to Dick's and start that poker game I was promised." He rubbed his hands together. "I'm feeling lucky tonight, boys. And if you really insist that there be stripping, Dick, I'll let you bet with clothes instead of chips." Logan eyed his friend in amusement._

" _Fuck you," Dick replied, and cuffed the back of Logan's head. "Let's get outta here."_

 **XXXX**

Despite the lack of nudity that night, Dick had enjoyed winning everyone's money, and the game had lasted well into the night. The guys kept bitching and moaning about the lack of "visual entertainment" but Logan, the only sober one, stood firm in his conviction - no strip club. Dick supposed Logan had earned his relationship with Veronica and his new family with blood, sweat, and more than a few tears, but it didn't stop Dick from trying to change his mind.

Dick parked his car and went into the salon. "Let's get this party started!"

With his poker winnings he paid for everyone's bill and threw a huge tip on top. He might not be the actual best man at this shindig, but that didn't mean he couldn't step up. As he pulled the bills out of his wallet, he saw the paper with his speech on it and suddenly got a little nervous. He'd need to reread it a few more times before the reception. There was no way he was going to be responsible for fucking anything up tonight. He couldn't risk Veronica and her taser. Shuddering at the thought, he reminded himself to leave enough time to check on the restaurant one more time and then went to get himself pampered.

 **XXXX**

Sitting in his chair on the beach waiting for Veronica to appear, Dick reflected on what was coming and, man, he just didn't get it. Sure, he knew Logan and Veronica loved each other, but they had a good thing going now and he didn't understand why they'd want to risk it all with a wedding. _I'm never getting married again_. He looked around the beach at the other guests and was hard-pressed to pick one couple there who hadn't been divorced. His eye caught Weevil and a stone-faced Jade. _Or well on their way to being divorced._

Mac slid into the seat next to him, and he remembered that _her_ parents were still together. _I guess things do work out sometimes_. He shrugged mentally and knew he couldn't do anything about it anyway. Not that he wanted to because… Logan was _happy_ , Dick realized with a jolt. He'd known Logan since they were kids and he'd _never_ seen him like this. He'd known Logan the Wild-Child, more manic than happy. And then Logan the Spiraling Death Wish. Dick was thankful he'd never have to see _that_ version again. Then there was Logan the Navy Guy. That one was certainly content, but didn't even come close to this guy up there at the altar: Logan the Family Man. Finally, Logan had gotten everything he'd always wanted, and Dick couldn't begrudge him that. He could only make sure that their wedding was as good as it could be. Not only to satisfy his professional pride, but to honor his "brother."

The ceremony on the beach was nice. _If I do say so myself._

When Dick had first started cooking, he'd wanted to start at the top- buying a restaurant before he even knew what he was doing. Dick shook his head at his own stupidity and ego. That restaurant had been a dismal failure and he'd realized with surprise that he had to do it the hard way - the adult way - and go back to pay his dues - culinary school, line cook, sous chef. He'd worked a lot of weddings during that time; enough that he had no desire to ever attend, or host, another one. And, thankfully, he didn't have to, but for this one, his last hurrah, he'd wanted to pull out all the stops. Too bad Ronnie kept insisting on simple. _Brides_ \- _weddings would be much better without them_.

Dick focused his attention back on the couple just as Logan brought Veronica's hand to his lips and she started speaking their vows.

"Real isn't how you are made; it's a thing that happens to you. When someone loves you for a long time, really loves you, then you become real."

"It doesn't happen all at once; it takes a long time, but once you are real, it lasts for always," Logan finished.

Dick crinkled up his face in confusion. _What the fuck was that?_

 **XXXX**

"Make tawk," Wyatt said, squatting next to the speakers. _Did all women start out demanding and difficult?_ Dick looked for an adult to come rescue him and then realized he _was_ the adult in this situation. He flapped his hands, trying to shoo her away before the music started. There was no way he was going to pick up little Two Percent. He'd probably drop her and ruin the whole night.

Finally, Mac swooped in and picked up the baby, shaking her head at Dick's incompetence. He shrugged an apology. Kids were not his thing. Food was. He made his way to the kitchen to finish preparing Mac's meal.

He threw on an apron so he wouldn't be covered in kale and suffered Mitch and Brad to take a quick picture of him. What did he have to be embarrassed about? He _owned_ this joint. Just as the strains of the first dance music petered out, Dick put the finishing touches on the cauliflower steak, seared both sides and left it for Brad to roast. At this point, he could only hope that Mac liked it.

Before he left the kitchen, he made sure that Brad had everything organized with the cleaning crew and slipped him a note from his pocket. That settled, he returned to the party.

He slid into his seat by Mac's side just as Keith was starting his speech. He saw her kick Ryan just as he'd arrived, and then Ryan's answering smirk. Dick explained his absence by telling her about her special main course. Despite her protests to the contrary, he could tell she was happy with the attention.

Ryan whispered something and Mac hissed a reply too low for Dick to hear.

Leaning over, Dick whispered softly into her ear, and was gratified when he noticed the goose flesh appearing on her neck and cleavage. "What did Ryan say now?" Mac blushed, but only shook her head in reply. "Come on, tell me." Again, she shook her head and kept her eyes on Keith. Deciding to let it go, Dick focused back just in time to hear the end of Keith's speech and his own introduction.

In what he liked to think of as true Dick fashion, he strutted over to the mic, buttoning his jacket as he went. He'd practiced his speech a dozen times today, so he knew he had this. And the bit he'd added after he spoke with Mac earlier about the wedding vows, well…it would be worth the tirade she was sure to unleash on him later.

"Hey everybody, I think most of you know me – except you lovely ladies over there at table seven. _We_ will be having a conversation later this evening, don't you worry -" Dick winked at the table of Veronica's college friends.

"—Right, anyway, I've been given strict instructions to keep this speech clean. It even got the Mackie stamp of approval, so you can turn off the taser you have ready, Ronnie. When it came to writing this speech I wasn't short of material. Although most of it I had to edit, throw away, burn, or leave out so no one would get arrested. So what you're all getting is what's left over."

Dick turned to address the happy couple. "Logan, dude, thanks for asking me to be your best man –"

"I didn't!" Logan cut in, and the crowd laughed.

"Shut up, man. You're ruining my flow!" Dick whispered loudly and turned back to the crowd. "But seriously, I couldn't let today go by without giving our happy couple here a little bit of a hard time. I'd like to start by taking a little poll. How many of you here have lived through one Logan/Ronnie breakup? Two? Three? All four?"

Only Keith, Wallace, Mac, Weevil and Dick had their hands still raised at the end.

"Logan, Ronnie, I think I speak for the five of us when I say: don't screw this up. I may be a bachelor who knows jackshit about marriage, but I think there are a few surfing tips that I _do_ know that might work here too.

"First, choose the right board. One handsome groom, check. One beautiful bride, check.

"Second, fasten on the leash. _Clearly_ that's why we're all here.

"Third, don't pop up all half-assed. Get all the way up, or you'll just end up falling in the water headfirst. So, uh, I guess that means have it out all at once. Finish the damn fight, don't just ignore it, or you'll end up washed up on shore, spitting sand out of your mouth. This one is important, because we all know how much you guys like to fight." The crowd laughed. Most had been privy to at least one argument between the happy couple.

Dick raised his glass to finish his toast, but then stopped and smirked.

"Oh yeah, I just thought of one more, and this might be the most important: make sure you know how to properly wax your board. But, uh, you guys have little Two Percent, so I guess that's not a problem, huh? But, you know if you ever need some tips on how to spice things up, may I suggest bunny costumes and porn? Just remember that real bunnies have huge litters so use protection this time, okay?" Dick chuckled and leered at Veronica, who was sitting with her head in her hands.

"Okay, okay. That was the worst of it. I'm done. Everyone, please join me in a toast to Logan and Veronica. To a lifetime of happiness, peace and staying out of jail!"

He threw back his head to take a swig of his champagne, but found himself wearing most of it when Mac yanked the mic from his hand. He glowered at her even though he'd been half expecting it, and moved back to the table to listen to her speech. As she drew to a close, he was proud of her. Her speech, while much milder than his, still managed to bring up that stupid ass website and cause them just enough embarrassment to take some of the heat off of himself. Reassured that he would survive the evening with his balls intact, he dug into the plate of food that had been just put in front of him and ordered another drink.

 **XXXX**

Dick put down his glass of water and surveyed the room. _Yup! You still know how to throw one hell of a party, dude._ He had tried to inject a little luxury and class where he could. Imported lilies in cut-crystal and pillared candles for centerpieces. Exclusive cheeses and wines. Quality champagne. A top mixologist.

He'd spent most of the night on the dance floor, bouncing between Trina, Nick's girlfriend, Melanie, and Ronnie's single friends. But he wanted to be front and center when they wheeled out the cake. He'd spent hours with Mitch designing the thing and then collecting the photos in secret. He'd never worked that hard on anything in his life. Agonizing over who to include in the photo history and who needed to be left out. Some choices were easier than others.

Mitch himself wheeled it out on the tea cart and Dick watched his friends walk around the cake looking at the pictures. Logan and Veronica could mask their feelings better than anyone he knew, but when he saw Veronica tear up and bury her face in Logan's arm, he knew he'd nailed it. It was the only time he was sure he'd really impressed Ronnie and Dick basked in the glory that came with the feeling.

The music started back up and Nick invited everyone to join the bride and groom on the dance floor. There was still one person Dick hadn't danced with tonight. He thought about asking her now, but she was already getting out of her chair and taking Wallace's hand. Dick leaned against the bar to watch Logan and Veronica.

 _You were better for me than I was for myself,_

 _for me, there's you and there ain't nobody else,_

 _I want to stop and thank you baby. I just want to stop and thank you baby, yes I do,_

 _how sweet it is to be loved by you._

He snagged himself a piece of cake, satisfying himself that it tasted just as good as it looked and then rejoined the dancing couples. Dottie, Melanie, another dance with Ronnie's college roommate Tracey, and then he got saddled with Trina again. Shit, could she talk. He finally made some excuse about having to check on things in the kitchen, and hid out until Trina was happily dancing with Jake's brother, Patrick. _Poor schmuck_.

Logan was coming back from checking on the baby and caught Dick at the pass. "That cake was… amazing. Thanks, man."

Now wasn't the time for macho bullshit, he hugged his friend, _brother_. "Anything for you and Ronnie, dude."

The initial notes of some cheesy 80s song started over the speakers. He'd given Logan and Ronnie a hard time when they'd selected Nick as the DJ. They wouldn't let him be Best Man, and then they'd stopped him from from using his mad party skills, too. But he had to admit that the tunes Nick had chosen that night were a good mix of party staples, hit music and slow ballads. Except for this one.

It was the final song of the night. Despite his brain telling him that it was a bad idea, Dick couldn't resist asking Mac for a dance. "So how about it, Mac? You gonna dance with me before this shindig ends?"

He waved away her feeble protests and led her to the floor. With her in his arms and his self-confidence well lubricated by his success with the cake, he gave her the compliment that he'd been holding in since he'd first seen her walk out with Wyatt.

"You know, Mac, I've been meaning to tell you all night that you're really rockin' that dress."

He was spinning them slowly and holding her close. His breath blew down her neck, the way he knew she liked. _What are you doing, idiot?_ And yet, he couldn't stop himself, nor his smug pleasure at feeling her shiver as she returned the compliment. She stumbled, and he gave her her dignity by blaming it on the alcohol even though he knew different. "I think maybe you should call it a night, Mac. I can take you back to the hotel now."

"Don't you need to stay and, I don't know, supervise or something?" Her face was red and her eyes were bright, and Dick knew without a doubt that it wasn't the music or the champagne that caused it.

"Nah, it's just clean-up now. I got people for that." _Would you shut up and just put her in a cab, asshole? Don't take her home, don't take her home. Don't take her-_ "C'mon, let's go."

They swung by their table so that Dick could grab his jacket and then passed the newlyweds locked up in each other as they made their way to the door. They gave a short wave, and when Dick caught Veronica's eye, her eyebrow rose. He gave her a thumbs up in reply before leading Mac out the door.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Just letting Ronnie know things are all set for tonight."

It was a chilly night, and Dick wrapped his jacket around Mac and settled her into his car. As she dozed on their way back to her hotel, though, Dick was busy having an argument with himself.

 _Just drop her off at the entrance and go._

 _You can't do that, jackass. She's barely awake. You gotta take her to her door._

 _Then keep two feet between you at all times. She's been drinking. What makes you think she wants anything to do with you anyway?_

 _Are you kidding? Man, all the signals were there._

 _You're imagining things. Just drop her and say goodnight._

 _Go for it, dude. You're the man!_

 _You're an idiot._

All too soon, they reached the hotel, and Dick shut down the arguing voices inside his head as Mac attempted to talk to him. He barely registered what she was saying. He could only seem to focus on her lips moving, but apparently he was giving the right answers because she wasn't looking at him like he was crazy.

And then suddenly, what she was saying was crystal clear and her slightly open door zoomed into focus.

"Do you...want to come in?"

 _Told ya!_

 _Say no!_

 _Say yes!_

The angel won. _Since when am_ I _the rational one? Man, this sucks._ Dick sighed. "Mac, you know that's probably not a good idea."

She blushed, but looked him straight in the eye and lifted her well-manicured eyebrow. "You don't want to?"

Dick groaned. "Dammit, Mac. You know that's not it. But we've never been able to figure out the other stuff. What happens afterwards."

His devil purred when she reached up and kissed him ever so softly. Invitingly.

"It doesn't have to be such a big deal, Dick. We're not kids. And you know we'd both enjoy it."

Dick stood there mute as his angel and devil vied for control of his mouth. Eventually, his brain won out over his crotch.

"I would definitely enjoy it, Mackie. You know I would. And I know _you_ definitely would." Dick couldn't help but smirk and waggle his eyebrows. "But…no. Thank you-" he kissed her cheek, cupping her face in his hand, "- but no."

Mac sighed and shrugged, shaking her head in wonder. "I never thought I'd see the day when Dick Casablancas would turn down sex. Then again, I never thought I'd see Logan and Veronica actually get married either, so I guess it's just a whole day of surprises."

 _I didn't turn down just sex, Mackie. But I can't take the chance of fucking us up_. Suddenly slightly panicked that he _did_ ruin any chance of maintaining their friendship anyway, Dick asked, "We still on for video games on Tuesday?"

Mac looked up at him and smiled reassuringly. "Of course. I'll bring the pizza." She opened her door further and stepped inside her room before turning one last time. "Night, Dick."

His eyes locked with hers. "Night, Mackie." He turned away and heard her door click shut. He got on the elevator and waited for the doors to close before facing the wall and banging his forehead on it to punctuate every word of the refrain that ran on a loop in his head - "You. Idiot. You. Idiot." – all the way back to the lobby, his car and his condo.

It was a long time before he fell asleep that night.


	7. WALLACE by Disdainfullady

**WALLACE by Disdainfullady**

Wallace had always woken to an internal clock, whether for five am practices, early morning study sessions, or after the occasional cat nap in his car during planning period. He figured it was an athlete thing. He took care of himself and his body always did as he told it. He'd never really needed an alarm. He'd set one, only to invariably wake five minutes before it went off.

Today it was more like three hours early.

It wasn't that he had that much official responsibility for the day. Wedding planning was so far outside his wheelhouse that it wasn't even worth taking the swing. He'd abdicated early on, refusing to look at flower arrangements or invitations and warning Veronica that if she left it up to him the playlist would be his team's warm-up soundtrack.

Frankly, he kind of liked the idea of walking down the aisle to _Becoming King_ , but if suggesting that was enough for Veronica to remove him from decision duty, then he was okay with that, too.

None of it – the flowers, music, food, babysitting the munchkin, or hand-holding Wyatt's two relentless drama queen parents – was specifically his task to carry out today. He could relax, grab a coffee, grade some problem sets, and maybe even get in a run before driving down to San Diego for the guys' lunch.

Theoretically. If he could just stop his mind from racing for a minute or two.

His best friend was getting married. She was getting married to the father of her child. Dealing with teenagers all the time, he'd become accustomed to feeling older than the hills, but this was something else. This was capital-A-adulthood from the two people his teen self never would have believed it of. He was usually pretty secure about his own life choices, but damn if V and Logan getting married wasn't raising all sorts of 'should this be me's up his mental flagpole.

Of course, it had been years since he'd met a girl who made him as crazy as those two had always been about each other.

His phone buzzed again and he grinned in resigned amusement as he snagged it from the charger. Fourteen messages.

Yeah, there was nothing at all for him to do.

 **XXXX**

Forty minutes later, he'd given the musicians accurate directions, checked in with the judge, reminded Dick that the salad was hardly the showboat of the evening and to focus on more important things —like obtaining all of the chocolate in the western hemisphere for the bride— and reassured Dottie that _of course_ the guests would want swag.

He'd also grabbed that coffee, graded those papers and was gearing up for that run, when another message came through and he remembered that there was one thing that he'd made his primary task. Wallace grabbed his wallet and keys and pocketed the bug sweeper lying innocently on the desk in front of him before heading out the door.

Scanning the street, he located his recent shadow parked in the silver Porsche halfway up the block. The two teenagers should be ashamed of themselves trying to tail him while driving that flashy look-at-me car.

Wallace shook his head. He'd never had the overt problems with the 09ers that Weevil or V had had, but that didn't mean they hadn't bothered him. All those kids with so damn much while his mom struggled just to keep their life going.

Teaching them had put things into a different perspective. Sure, some of them were spoiled rotten, but for the most part they were just kids. Just as prone to the intense highs and lows, joys and disappointments as they all were. He'd met enough poor little rich kids to know that money only glossed over so much. It could protect you from consequences, no small thing that, but it didn't make up for a parent who didn't so much as show up. Or for the ones you wished would never show up.

Caleb Littlefield was a good kid. He'd played forward both freshman and sophomore year, but dropped basketball when he didn't make varsity in his junior year. But it wasn't Caleb Wallace was concerned about, it was his pal, Dougie. A bit of a sycophant, Wallace wasn't sure why the 09ers kept Dougie around or why Cal was helping him with his not-exactly-covert surveillance. Bored, rich teenager with nothing better to do was Wallace's best guess.

Getting in his car, he drove in the opposite direction of the cigar bar. He was determined to get gas before the day's festivities began. Knowing the bride as well as he did, he figured he might be needed to assist with anything from an elopement to a high speed chase down the PCH and he did like to be prepared.

He pulled into a dilapidated Circle K on the outskirts of town and waited for the silver Porsche. It didn't follow him into the station - choosing to park across the street and wait for him. _Amateurs_. Wallace filled his tank at the far pump and then took off - driving behind the convenience store and using the rear exit. Those teenagers hadn't stood a chance. Wallace had learned from the best.

Satisfied that his tail was dispatched, Wallace turned on the radio and settled in for the drive.

 _Your traffic news and weather on the-_

He paged idly through his programmed stations, but it was the half-hour mark and all he was getting was news and commercials. Putting the radio on seek, he dipped in and out of half a dozen crappy local stations before catching the chords of that one Fray song that always brought him inexorably back to freshman year at Hearst.

 _Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,_

 _Somewhere along in the bitterness_

The memories still made him smile, but there was a melancholy edge to them now, because thinking about Hearst meant thinking about Piz. His infectious grin and mop of hair —whose Sia-like proportions his memory _had_ to be exaggerating— plus the eternally optimistic naiveté were now forever shadowed.

 _And I would have stayed up with you all night_

 _Had I known how to save a life_

He'd never really known Meg well, or Carrie, and Lilly Kane had been dead long before he'd gotten into town. With Piz's death, in some twisted way he'd finally understood Veronica, and maybe even Logan, in a way he never had before. It took time to recognize that all of them carried ghosts and that Piz was his. Wallace would be the only one of them remembering Piz today. But that was okay, it was right even. Piz was his to carry. Veronica had enough ghosts of her own.

He left the radio on, drifting in college nostalgia, remembering the people they had been, and how far they'd all come.

 **XXXX**

Lunch at the cigar bar had been unexpectedly entertaining. Of course Logan was distracted and moony, but that almost made it better for the rest of them. Wallace had never heard the Logan side of their various breakups, he'd been too busy trying to keep an eye on V (without letting her catch on to the fact that he was doing it, because she would have murdered him in cold blood if she'd thought he was checking up on her or in any way implying that she wasn't moving on immediately).

Dick got to the part about locking Logan out on the balcony of the Neptune Grand and Wallace couldn't help but laugh."You had to be a health hazard? You couldn't just eat ice cream and listen to Sarah Mclachlan?"

"Nope," Logan said lightly. "You still had all my CDs."

Logan had been less than thrilled with the conversational turns —really what did he expect, the torture of the groom was a time-honored process— but since his annoyance barely scratched the surface of his ridiculously overwhelming punch-you-in-the-face joy, Wallace couldn't bring himself to be particularly sympathetic.

Leaving the restaurant early to go pick up Keith from the hotel and drop off his own things for later, Wallace reached automatically for the bug sweeper in his pocket, doing a quick check of the various vehicles before everyone else left. Satisfied there were no GPS trackers on anyone's cars, he collapsed the antenna and slipped the portable device back in his pocket.

So far, so good. The day was half-over and there had been no meltdowns or arrests of any kind. _Shit._ He probably needed to knock on wood.

Ten minutes later, Wallace followed Keith into the barbershop. Neither Jake nor Logan had started their shaves yet and there was no sign of Dick.

Almost immediately, Logan left the black, wingback chair he was sitting in and joined them. There was a wariness in his eyes as he approached Keith and Wallace smiled. If he thought the guys picking on Logan over lunch was entertaining, watching the nervous groom interact with his future father-in-law was priceless. Logan asked, "How did things go with Wyatt last night?"

Moving away from them, Wallace joined Jake at the back of the shop. "Now this is more like it. I thought for sure Logan would spend the entire day in hair and makeup, trying to look his prettiest for the big day."

Jake laughed. "Mouth already thinks he's the prettiest; he probably didn't want to show up the bride."

Jake was alright. Wallace actually liked most of Logan's fellow pilots. He'd expected to feel intimidated – excluded – in their company when he joined them for Logan's bachelor party. He was just a civilian after all, worrying about his kids' AP scores, his team's record – not about enemy movements or whatever dangerous shit those guys dealt with on a daily basis.

So it was refreshing to be greeted with conspiratorial smiles as one of 'Mouth's high school friends.' Not that they'd actually been friends at that point —even during those times when they were friendly— but he guessed that was easier than figuring whatever the hell their actual connection had been. Best friend of Mouth's worst enemy turned love-of-his-life was probably a little much to explain.

Like most of the rest of their high school experience.

Dick strolled in with a loud, "Let's get this party started" and everyone was shown to the barber chairs for their hot shaves. Logan was in the chair across from his, placing them back-to-back, and as Wallace met his gaze in the wall mirror, Logan's reflection smirked. It was the cocksure teenage Logan.

Yeah, they definitely hadn't been friends in high school. Their actual friendship was only about a year and a half old, and had been the result of some serious soul-searching on Wallace's part.

Wallace closed his eyes and let his mind wander as the barber reclined his chair and draped a hot towel across his face.

 **XXXX**

 _Logan had been back in town for only a couple weeks, and seeing Veronica suddenly meant seeing Logan too, because damn if the guy wasn't glued to her side all. the. time. Not that Wallace really blamed him for that, considering she was pregnant and still recovering from being shot, but it meant his own discomfort with Logan became a luxury he could ill afford if he wanted to keep seeing his best friend._

 _Yes, it bothered him that his best friend had an unaccountable tendency to throw herself into danger and chose a guy who would always bring out that side of her, over the guy who'd just wanted to put her on a pedestal. But Veronica wasn't the pedestal type, so maybe Wallace needed to get over it._

 _Oh. Get over it. Why didn't I think of that?_

 _Having made up his mind to be an adult about the whole thing, Wallace ran through various ways he could improve the situation with Logan before deciding that screw it – he'd invite himself over with a six pack of something and they could hash things out once and for all. It wasn't girly bonding if it was over beer._

 _Decoying Veronica took some effort, the girl was too protective for her own good, but a week later he'd found himself on their doorstep wondering if he could just walk away now and pretend that he'd fixed things._

 _The bell chimed an intricate series of bongs he could hear just faintly through the door. Even Logan's doorbell was better than his._

 _The door jerked open and he found himself looking up at Logan, the other man's expression turning from annoyance to surprise as he recognized Wallace._

" _Veronica's not here – she and Keith had some urgent Mars family bonding to do." Logan spoke guardedly. Whatever he felt about his evening's interruption was buried under the wariness with which he generally regarded Wallace, as though he worried a bad word from Wallace would blow up his relationship with Veronica._

 _There was a time Wallace might have tried, too_. _Not that Veronica would have let him._

 _Wallace smirked a little at the mention of the Father/Daughter bonding day. "Yeah, who do you think sent Keith the flyer for that chocolate festival?" It had been one of his better ideas._

 _Logan shifted his balance slightly before stilling completely, which was a little unsettling, to be honest._

" _You here to run me off, Wallace?" His voice was quiet, and Wallace remembered belatedly that this was a guy who had been professionally trained to kill._

 _He lifted his chin a little. "Would it have any effect if I was?"_

" _Not a chance in hell."_

 _Good. Veronica didn't need someone who'd turn tail at the first sign of trouble. Of course Logan's problem had always been more that he'd start punching at the first sign of trouble, so it was nice that he was still quiet. Still calm. Maybe a little too calm. It was freaking him out a little._

" _Okay then. Mind if I come in?" Awkward as this whole thing was, it was even more awkward with him standing here on the front porch like a door-to-door salesman._

 _Logan stepped back, shaking his head slightly as though in disbelief. "I feel like this is the part in the horror movie when everyone is telling me to run."_

" _Don't worry, I left the machete at home," Wallace said as he walked into the house._

" _Well, see, that's just poor planning on your part." His grin was almost a grimace, and Wallace knew he'd have to lay his cards on the table immediately._

 _He sat gingerly on the edge of the upholstered armchair and plunged in._

" _Look, if Veronica was here, she'd be so busy trying to protect us both that I'd never get anywhere. I figured it would be easier if I saw you alone."_

 _Sitting warily across from him, Logan smirked. He was always most recognizable as the jerk he had been when he smirked. "Wallace, it's not that I'm not flattered, and, objectively speaking, you're a very attractive man –"_

 _Well that was just plain wrong, and Wallace couldn't keep from scoffing in response, "Okay, first of all, objectively speaking, I am completely out of your league, thank you."_

" _See, I don't think you realize how very pretty I am." Logan looked at him pityingly. "I can have Trina send you the press clippings."_

 _Wallace sighed. "Look, since you and Veronica got back together, I know I haven't been a good friend to her."_

 _Logan shrugged, doing that self-deprecating thing he did sometimes where he acknowledged that half the planet seemed to hate him. "It's not—"_

 _Wallace knew he'd need to barrel ahead or Logan would never let him get to the apology that he needed to make because darn it, he was better than the sulky brat he'd been acting like around them._

" _I thought she'd finally gotten out, you know? Nine years, and she'd barely stop by Neptune at Christmas. Then you land yourself in trouble again, and she's out on the next flight. Suddenly, she's getting arrested again. Getting shot at again. So yeah, I blamed you."_

" _Yeah." Wallace didn't have to be psychic to guess that Logan blamed himself for that too. He kept going._

" _But the thing is – you know one of the only other visits she did make? My little brother was in a car accident a couple years ago. He's okay, but it was – it wasn't good, for a long time. And Veronica? She was there the next day. She didn't even say anything, she just booked a flight. She does that for her people, you know?"_

" _I know."_

" _So I thought about it, and I realized I was blaming you for Veronica being Veronica, when the fact is, if that whole situation had happened to me or her dad or Mac she would have been right back here just the same. Cause that's who she is. That's what's great about who she is. And it was stupid of me to be mad about it."_

 _Okay, almost done._

" _And then the whole thing with Piz before I'd really gotten used to things didn't help. I blamed you for that too even though it wasn't your fault. It was easier to blame someone, you know?"_

" _Wallace – I hope you know I'm sorry about Piz."_

 _He didn't want to get into Logan's apology. No doubt it was sincere, but it was also impersonal. He was sorry because someone had died, and probably in some guilty way because he blamed himself – the guy was good at blaming himself. He wasn't really sorry because of Piz as a person, how could he be? They weren't friends. They didn't even like each other. Wallace could be sorry for Piz. He didn't need it from Logan._

" _You and Veronica, you seem good. It feels like it might stick this time. And she's my best friend, so I guess I decided I needed to start acting like it." He indicated the paper bag in his hand and Logan raised his eyebrows._

" _You brought cookies? You_ really _are Veronica's best friend."_

" _Grown-up cookies. I didn't know if you were a pilsner guy, but Mac turned me on to this microbrewery right outside San Diego, Angry Dodo – this stuff is amazing even if you're not."_

 _To his surprise Logan reddened a little like – was he embarrassed?_

" _Um actually, I don't – really drink anymore. At all, I mean. Long self-destructive story, as you can probably guess." He kept moving his hands like he didn't know what to do with them, running one through his hair, then settling it awkwardly on his shoulder, then bringing the other one up to massage his jaw._

 _Shit. Now he was the jerk. Had he – had Veronica said something about this? She probably had and he'd been so busy resenting her for being with Logan that he hadn't noticed. But they'd been to bars since he'd been back, he'd seen Logan – hadn't he been having gin and tonics? Or vodka tonics or whatever?_

" _But last Friday—"_

" _Water. Sometimes I mix things up with a lime wedge. You know, if I'm feeling frivolous."_

" _How did I not—"_

" _You're not supposed to notice. Or possibly you're incredibly self involved, pick whichever answer works better."_

" _Yeah, I didn't realize."_

" _And that hurts, but I've forgiven you. Now if you'll give me a minute, I bet I can scrounge us up some actual cookies before destroying you at the video game of your choice."_

" _Oh it is on."_

 **XXXX**

After that it had been easy. Like he'd just pressed a button and voila, instant friendship. It took him a while to realize that a big part of why they'd never been friends before had been because of the walls he himself had put up.

The barber completed the shave by wrapping a cold water towel around Wallace's face and then applying an aftershave balm that smelled of citrus and sandalwood. He could get used to this pampering. It was very calming -meditative, almost.

Wallace joined Jake at the front counter just in time to hear him get the receptionist's phone number. The man definitely had game. His cell rang and he checked the caller ID. "What's up, Mac? Everything okay?"

 **XXXX**

"Flower delivery." The twenty minutes he had spent driving to the florist's to pick up Wyatt's missing pomander were totally worth it when he saw Veronica's reaction.

If you'd told him a few weeks ago that a little ball of flowers could make Veronica cry he would have told you that you were nuts, but darn it if she didn't get all teary-eyed the second he showed up at the door with the thing.

"I told Mac I had it handled."

Veronica smiled as she released him from a hug. "I never should have doubted you, Fennel."

"So how are you doing otherwise? Any words of wisdom you need me to impart? Seems wrong that I don't get to hang out with my best friend on her wedding day."

Veronica gasped, "Didn't Mac tell you you were invited for the seaweed wrap?"

"Must have slipped her mind." He grinned and she hugged him again.

"I'm good Wallace. I'm happy."

"Yeah, you and Logan have the same goofy expressions on your faces, you know, like you're just lit up inside."

She shook her head, but it didn't quite wipe the smile from her face. "That's cause I am."

Wallace searched through his memory for all the times he'd seen his best friend this happy and all of them involved Logan. But all of her darkest moments seemed to have his name written across them, too. Incredible highs and equally incredible lows were the cornerstone of their relationship.

Getting out of Neptune had been her top priority since the day they'd met and she was happy to leave it in her rearview mirror, but leaving Logan behind had been a different story. Actually, Wallace wasn't sure she'd ever truly left him behind. It seemed to him that she'd always carried Logan with her. It was _right_ that they'd found their way back to each other. That she was home.

"I'm happy for you, V… for you _and_ Logan."

The photographer arrived and Wallace turned to head to Logan's suite to get ready. Veronica snagged his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Hey, when you're all pimped out, come back and take some photos with your BFF, okay?"

He held up a finger. "First, never say _pimped out_ again."

"And second?" She prompted.

Wallace grinned and held up a second finger. "Never say _pimped out_ again."

 **XXXX**

The day was picture perfect - beautiful enough that he half-wondered who Veronica had threatened in order to bring it about.

He flicked some sand off his linen suit as he settled into his chair. It still seemed ridiculous to think that they were here somehow. Today felt like something that would never happen. Or maybe like something that had happened ten years ago.

Veronica and Logan. Logan and Veronica.

It was just a given somehow. Once they'd stopped pushing each other away, they couldn't help but hold each other close.

Logan looked petrified, like he couldn't believe he was really here. Like he'd gotten everything he'd ever wanted and was now terrified he was going to mess it up.

And Veronica?

It was no secret she was beautiful. But today – well, if anyone at the wedding was still wearing socks, she would have knocked them off for sure.

At the vow-reading Wallace found himself exchanging sentimental glances with everyone from his own Mom to the guy Logan had introduced as Biscuit at the bachelor party last week. And man if he wasn't going to need to do something impressive and manly soon to get some of his street cred back.

He absolutely did not cry. Not at all.

There was just a lot of sand and it got in his eyes.

Only once he got to the cocktail hour did he finally let himself relax. Vows had been said. Judge Winthrop had been bundled off with the signed marriage license. He looked damn good in his suit and Dick's people were serving some seriously magnificent cocktails.

The drinks had cutesy names that were probably not bride-approved, but they were delicious. Wallace ordered the _Jet Pilot_ —three types of rum, grapefruit and lime juices with cinnamon syrup, bitters, and absinthe— and decided he'd have Veronica's signature drink, _The Dial M_ , next.

He got his drink and joined Weevil at the end of the bar. "Hey, man."

Weevil's answering, "Hey," was glum.

Wallace followed his gaze to Jade and Valentina. He knew things weren't working for them. Even though Weevil was no longer riding with the PCHers and had reopened his shop, Jade was still talking divorce. In fact he was surprised she'd even agreed to come tonight. As soon as he asked how Weevil made that happen, he regretted it. _Maybe one Jet Pilot is enough for me and my big mouth_.

They weren't exactly friends, he and Weevil, but they'd come a long way from their taped to a flagpole days and Wallace felt bad for him. He tried offering him some encouragement and ended with a lame, "...maybe she'll come around."

"Whatever you say,"

A waiter passed with a tray of mini beef Wellingtons and Wallace snagged a few for himself and then took a few for Weevil. "Still can't wrap my head around the idea of Dick Casablancas being a chef."

Weevil smirked. "Or a productive member of society."

"True that." Wallace refilled their shared plate with toasted brioche topped with creme fraiche and caviar and a handful of gruyere and parmesan beignets. Searching for a subject to pull Weevil from his funk, he asked: "How are things going at the shop?"

"Good." His shoulders relaxed and he smiled. "I've started restoring classic cars for collectors. Right now I'm working on a Mustang Fastback." He regaled Wallace with the story of driving all the way up to Modesto to pick up an original gas cap and scoring taillights for his next project - a '63 Fairlane.

"Think I could come by the shop and check it out?"

Surprise widened Weevil's eyes, but he just shrugged. "Sure, stop by whenever." He turned away, his eyes moving restlessly around the room and finally focusing on a spot in the far corner. Valentina was trying to go upstairs to the outdoor deck, VIP area, and she didn't look happy with Jade's attempt to stop her. "I gotta go, man."

Wallace watched him join Jade and coax his daughter off the stairs. _Weevil Navarro - a father_. Strange days. Turning back to the bar, he ordered another drink.

 **XXXX**

He carried his drink — _The Drama Queen_ — back to the empty table he was sharing with his family. Taking a sip, he leaned back in his chair to watch the dancers. His mom was on the floor with Miles. Wallace liked his stepfather. Dr. Jameson had been responsible for Darrell's physical therapy after the accident. It had been a bad year for all of them, and Miles's relentless enthusiasm had helped each of them at some point. His mom most of all.

Seeing Darrell goofing around on the dance floor with his new girlfriend Julie, it was hard to remember the months of limping and heating pads, of reconstructive surgery and pain meds.

All the bad days seemed worth it when they got to have days like this.

Betty Everett's _I Need You So_ faded away and Veronica finished dancing with her dad, backing away to scoop up her shoes. This was his chance to dance with the bride. Wallace put down his drink and danced his way through the couples twisting to Chuck Berry.

 _And now the young monsieur and madame have rung the chapel bell,_

" _C'est la vie," say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell._

He held out his hand. "Ready to dance with your BFF?"

"Sure." She smiled and dropped her shoes, taking his hand.

This was the side of Veronica few people ever got to see - relaxed and happy and unguarded. Wallace loved it, but he was also fond of the sarcastic teenage outcast who cut him down from the flagpole, and he was glad she hadn't entirely gone away. "Girl, you should hear what people are saying about you."

"So then what are you doing dancing with me?"

Wallace grinned. "Well, I figured I had a choice, I could dance with you… or Trina."

She laughed. "You mean, Hollywood?" Wallace arched an eyebrow and Veronica shrugged. "With all the talk about callsigns tonight, I decided everybody needed one. You, of course, are Papa Bear."

Groaning at the tired nickname, he shook his head. "What else you got?"

"Well, Dick" —she nodded toward where he was dancing with Trina— "is Easy Bake."

Wallace laughed. "You better hope Easy Bake's light bulb is bright enough to make an entire wedding cake."

 **XXXX**

The wedding cake was whisked away by the waiters and Nick reopened the dance floor with a little James Taylor. Now that the cake cutting was over, guests would be leaving and the entire

event would be coming to a close. Seeing Mac alone at her table, Wallace polished off the last bite of his Napoleon and stood. Sidling up to her chair, he asked: "Hey co-conspirator, feel like cutting a rug?"

Mac took his hand and got up from the table. "A rug? I was planning to shred some wall-to-wall carpet." As they joined the other dancers, she asked, "How are things going with Operation Mouth of Sauron?"

It was her idea to name their mission after the Lord of the Rings character because both she and Logan were Tolkien nerds. And because she could shorten it to Operation Mouth —utilizing Logan's callsign— since their first priority was keeping the groom out of the loop.

Wallace grinned. It was kind of nice, the three of them working a case together. If it wasn't for Dick's involvement it would be just like old times. "I did my part, now it's just up to Veronica."

"Well gee, now I almost feel bad for the guy."

"Don't. It's Veronica's day, she should be allowed to foil at least one evil plan." He spun them around. "It can be her wedding present."

Mac's eyeroll might have been directed at his fancy footwork or at his wedding present comment. "Does that mean you didn't buy them anything?"

"Nah, I got them steak knives."

"You got them weapons? Nothing could possibly go wrong there."

"Says the girl who got them …"

"A beautiful _marble_ rolling pin," Mac supplied.

Wallace's smile was smug. "Or in cop parlance, a blunt instrument." The two of them shared a laugh at the idea of Veronica and Logan's first fight as husband and wife.

As the music ended and the waiters started serving the cake, Wallace caught the eye of a cutie at table seven. _One of Veronica's Stanford friends - Sarah_. He escorted Mac back to her table and hugged her goodbye. "Don't forget mini-golf with the munchkin on Wednesday."

"I won't," she promised.

He did an about-face and started strolling his way over to table seven when Jake snagged his arm.

"Hey, do you mind if we appear to be having a serious and uninterruptible conversation for a few moments? I need camouflage."

Wallace laughed. "Trina?"

"She's relentless."

"There is a way to get her to back off permanently, but it's a risk. You'd be taking your life into your hands."

"Not sure I care at this point."

"Next time she makes you dance with her? Step on her dress. One tiny tear and she'll write you off forever. Notice how she doesn't come within five feet of me?"

"You are a wise and brilliant man."

"And don't you forget it."

 **XXXX**

He snagged the number of the Stanford hottie, one Sarah Tolliver, before heading back to the buffet table and his true love of the evening.

Much as he hated the thought of being indebted to Dick Casablancas, he might just have to be buried with this cake. Chocolate and raspberry finally making it legal after so many years of sinful bliss.

He went to go snag a second slice before the airmen could descend like the locusts they were, only to be hip-checked by the bride.

"Just so you know, Hollywood is concerned about your carb intake."

"Did Hollywood happen to see how much you put on your own plate?"

Veronica glared at him. "I am the bride; nothing I eat today contains calories. I think, for your own safety, I should probably bite the bullet and take that cake for you."

"You can bite all the bullets you want, but don't think for a second about biting my cake." She made a feint to get it and he smacked at her hand. "Back off woman!"

Veronica laughed as she stepped back. "So I saw you talking to Sarah. Any sparks there?"

"Maybe a glimmer."

"Hurrah. Perhaps her taste is finally improving." Off his look, she explained. "Sarah has notoriously bad taste in men."

"So when I tell you I got her number—"

"Then I'd say you were a wonderful exception to a terrible rule."

"That bad?"

"There was a guy who played the ukulele."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, definitely made me miss you guys."

He hesitated, not wanting to bring up old wounds on her wedding day of all days, but then deciding to go for it, knowing that, for him anyway, there wasn't any bitterness there any more. "It didn't bring you back though."

Veronica sobered, but didn't deflect. "I wasn't ready yet, Wallace. I was too scared of the damage I'd done. The damage I could do."

"And now?" He couldn't help but ask.

"I'm scared of hiding again."

Wallace nodded in acceptance of her answer. "I love you girl, you know that."

"Thanks, but I'm married."

"You just can't get over saying that, can you?"

"Nope, not really!"

Logan made his way over to join them, and the body language between the lovebirds was enough to make him feel the whole party had overstayed its welcome. He gagged a little for dramatic effect. "You two acting like newlyweds is my cue to bounce."

Veronica punched him in the arm and then leaned in for a hug. "Next time it'll be me gagging at your PDAs."

He couldn't help but smile at that. "Logan, congrats man. Now I'll make my exit and let you two get back to pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist."

He said goodbye to his Mom and Miles and a couple of other people before making his way outside into the crisp night air.

The drive home was on the long side, but he liked having the time to think. He'd been alone for a while now, by choice, mostly. But today he'd been surrounded by people caught up in the various stages of coupling. It wasn't just Veronica and Logan – whose pure joy was enough to make even the most hardened cynic reconsider their position on romance. He'd caught the way Miles kept picking up his mom's shawl every time it slipped off her shoulder. The way Dottie slipped her hand in Keith's as they sat at the table.

He wanted that. Maybe even the harder parts of it. He hadn't missed Dick and Mac's little dance around each other the whole evening, or Trina's single-minded pursuit of Logan's friends, or even the wistful looks Weevil kept turning toward Jade.

They were all of them playing the game. None of them had had it easy. And some of them might never find their way back to each other. But when they did – when they found each other – he couldn't think of anything that could top that.

Maybe it was time he put himself back in play. Sarah might be the one, she might not. And sure, he'd probably get hurt a time or two, but it couldn't be any worse than standing on the sidelines watching the game go on around him. Not when he knew the happy endings were possible.


	8. VERONICA by CaitlynMacKenzie

**VERONICA by CaitlynMacKenzie**

Bill Medley's baritone came through the speakers and filled the restaurant: _Now I've had the time of my life; no, I've never felt like this before; yes, I swear it's the truth and I owe it all to you_.

There were some baffled looks from the remaining wedding guests regarding her song dedication, but Veronica didn't care. No one else needed to understand. The wide grin on Logan's face as he crossed the room to join her on the floor was the only reaction that mattered.

He slid his arms around her waist and lowered his lips to her ear. "They're playing our song."

Logan made no effort to keep to the rhythm, choosing instead to hold her close, and sway to the music. Veronica melted into him and wound her arms around his neck. "Now aren't you glad I made you stay for the final dance?"

"Anything that allows me to hold you in my arms makes me happy."

"You're downright mushy." She almost added _tonight_ , but Logan was pretty mushy and romantic at all times. Even when he was being a jerk, he found a way to make her feel loved.

Veronica stopped dancing. Gripping the back of his neck, she pulled his head down bringing their lips together. It was the kiss she'd wanted to give him that night at the Sadie Hawkins dance. Awkwardly holding each other and trying to look anywhere else while she stole glances at his face. She'd been filled with such longing —for him, for the summer they'd shared— and with regret— for the way things had ended between them, for leaving him, for getting back together with Duncan. Veronica slowly pulled back, breaking the kiss, and then, missing the contact, she leaned in to kiss him again.

Logan stroked her cheek. "It all turned out the way it was supposed to, Veronica."

She smiled. "How do you do that?"

"Years of practice." He smoothed his hands down her back and kissed her nose. "Now can we blow this joint and I'll show you some other things I'm good at?" A suggestive eyebrow waggle accompanied the question.

"Just give me one minute." She removed his hands from her waist and searched the room for Matt. He was taking some last minute shots of the guests before they departed, including one of her dad holding a sleeping Wyatt with Dottie at his side.

Veronica crossed the room and briefly rested her hand on her daughter's head. "We'll come to your room in the morning to have breakfast and say goodbye," she whispered to Dottie who gave her a hug. "Thanks for today."

"It was my pleasure." Dottie made the generic remark with such warmth and sincerity, Veronica didn't doubt the sentiment for a moment. Her dad kissed the top of her head and then Veronica watched the three of them head for the exit, a waiter trailing behind them carrying the pack n' play, diaper bag, and all the other equipment required for traveling with a baby. _It's like moving a circus_.

She turned back to Matt and held out her hand. "Memory cards, please."

Chuckling, he took the two cards from his pocket. "I told Jeremy you wouldn't have the patience to wait for proofs and a photo album." He removed the final card from his camera. "This just won me a fancy night out on the town."

"Make sure he doesn't try to surprise you with it, okay?"

"Trust me, we've learned our lesson." Matt handed over the memory cards and kissed her cheek. "Your new husband is looking a little antsy."

"Better antsy than jealous," she murmured. _A jealous Logan was a deadly one_. "I'll call you when I get back and we'll talk about" —Veronica gave him a mock shudder— "photo albums."

"You _look_ like a bride, but…" Matt shook his head in resignation and Veronica grinned.

With a wave, she left him to pack up his camera gear and went to join her _antsy_ husband. "Okay, I'm all yours for the next week."

"Uh, I think you mean you're all mine for the next, oh, sixty or seventy years."

"That long, huh?" She threaded her fingers through his. "How are we ever going to pass the time?"

"We'll think of something." Logan kissed her fingers. "Let's make a break for it before someone else decides they _must_ talk to us."

With him leading the way, they skirted the dance floor, ducked behind the dessert table where Logan grabbed a white pastry box, and then they slunk their way down the hall toward the front of the restaurant. "I thought I was the furtive one."

"You are" —he pulled her into the empty, private dining area, site of their cocktail hour— "And have I mentioned how incredibly hot it is?"

"Once or twice," she said as she collided with his back.

He'd stopped short at the set of double doors leading to the parking lot. Prying open the one on the right, he peeked through the sliver of space to scout the area. Logan craned his neck to look at her. "Stealthy Veronica turns me on."

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed, " _Everything_ turns you on."

"Correction- everything _you_ do turns me on." Pausing in his Jason Bourne routine, he caught her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted her head back for a kiss.

It was whisper soft, his mouth barely touching hers, but then the tip of his tongue grazed her bottom lip and Veronica moved closer. She stroked the smoothness of his cheek and deepened the kiss. _I love this man_. The taste of the rich espresso he'd had with dessert lingered and she lost herself in the notes of chocolate and caramel and _Logan_. It was a heady mix. A flavor she wanted to roll around her tongue and savor.

Logan broke the kiss, but not the contact. Cradling her hips in his palms, he pressed their foreheads together and his gaze locked with hers. "I love you, Veronica."

The dim mood lighting in the room left his face in shadows, but she could see his eyes. Lust darkened their depths and she bit her bottom lip. _Time to go now_. "You better check to make sure the coast is still clear."

Following her instructions, he peered through the door and gave her a thumbs up. Together they raced across the parking lot and threw themselves into the back of the waiting car - an ivory, 1929 Durant complete with suicide doors and a uniformed driver. It was the same car Logan had sent earlier to pick Mac and her up from the hotel.

"Home, James, and don't spare the horses," Logan instructed as he pulled the door closed.

"You watch too many movies."

He grinned at her. "It's actually from a song, Miss Smarty Pants."

Veronica stuck her tongue out at him. "That's _Mrs._ Smarty Pants to you." Logan lunged for her and she held up both palms pressing them to his chest to keep him away. "This backseat was _not_ made for fun and games."

His gaze raked over her. "I can make it work."

"You're incorrigible." She playfully swatted his arm with her clutch.

Palming the back of her knee, he lifted her leg and draped it over his lap, turning her body in the seat until her back was against the door with her head resting on the window. His hand slid up her leg and fingered the garter belt at the top of her thigh. "Well, what do we have here?" A wolfish grin.

Veronica swallowed- _hard_. "You went all _wedding_ on me with this" —she waved her arm around the confines of the car— "classic automobile, so I thought I'd indulge in a little classic of my own."

A growl rumbled past his lips as he lifted up her skirt and disappeared beneath the silk. "Logan," she gasped as he licked up her inner thigh and grabbed the garter with his teeth. Very slowly he tugged the garter down, his teeth gently scraping along her skin. When he reached her knee, he grabbed her hips drawing her closer and started kissing his way back up her leg. He swiped his tongue across the wisp of white lace between her thighs and Veronica sucked air into her lungs.

With perfect timing, he withdrew, letting the skirt of her dress fall back into place as the car stopped in front of the hotel. He twirled his prize around his index finger. "The classics never go out of style."

Swinging open the suicide door, he climbed out and offered her his hand. Veronica slid across the bench seat and let him help her from the car. The feeling of feet firmly on the ground didn't last long. Logan swept her into his arms. "Uh, this carrying me over the threshold thing is going to get old, fast. You can't carry me every place we go."

"Why not?" He gave her a light kiss. "I've been carrying you with me since the first day we met."

She buried her face in his shoulder. It had been an intense day, her feelings never far from the surface. There were moments she'd barely managed to keep the tears in check —walking down the aisle with her dad, seeing Logan dance with their daughter, her quiet moment with Wallace— and she'd nearly lost it when she saw the cake, but the raw emotion in Logan's eyes just now was her undoing.

Sensing her need for a little space, Logan remained silent for the elevator ride and the walk down the hall to their room. In an impressive show of grace and dexterity, he managed to hold her and the pastry box while using the keycard to open the door to the suite. He carried her over the threshold, gently set her on her feet, and tossed the pastry box on the dresser. Cupping her face, he stroked his thumbs across her cheeks and kissed her nose. "I love you, Veronica Mars."

"Echolls," she murmured. "Veronica Echolls." His brows shot up in surprise and she smiled. "But only for you."

"I'll take it." His hands fell to her shoulders and slid down her arms. Taking the clutch from her hand, he tossed it on the dresser next to the pastry box and then bent his head to kiss the side of her neck. "Want help getting out of your dress?" His breath was a warm caress across her skin and she shivered.

"Eager much?" Lifting her hair, she turned around. "Just your hands- no mouth, no teeth, no tongue."

Logan laughed. "If I remember correctly I can make you moan without even using my—"

Veronica elbowed him. "There will be no moaning except maybe while I eat what's in that box." She bent her arm behind her in an attempt to reach the zipper. "I want to get out of this dress, take a shower, and look at the photos."

Groaning, he swatted her hand out of the way and lowered the zipper. "I've had enough of photos for one day. Can't they wait until our anniversary- our _fiftieth_ anniversary?" Holding the dress to her chest, she spun around to frown at him and he held out his arms. "What? We can sit on the porch of the nursing home and try to remember who's who. It'll be a hoot. For every face we get right, we'll win a dose of our medication."

Releasing her hold on the front of her dress, she let it fall to her waist enjoying Logan's sharp intake of breath when he spotted the white silk and lace torsolette she wore underneath. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. Sliding a hand up his chest, she placed it on his shoulder for balance and removed first one shoe and then the other. She smoothed her fingers down his lapel and popped open the first button of his uniform jacket. "Did those meds at the nursing home include Viagra?"

"Not needed." Logan traced the lace décolletage of the torsolette with his fingertips. " _Especially_ if you wear things like this."

She scrunched her nose. "You expect me to wear lingerie under my housecoat?" Taking a step back, she slowly started to peel off the wedding dress revealing sheer, lace hipster briefs and thigh-high stockings.

"Uh…" His eyes were following the progress of silk as it moved lower. Veronica shimmied her hips and the dress pooled around her feet. "Housecoat," he stammered.

"Mmm-hmm… a polyester, floral-print." She stepped out of the dress and closer to him. "Now, I think that you" —Veronica undid the rest of his buttons, ran her hands over his chest, and pushed the jacket off his shoulders— "Should plug in my laptop while I shower."

Turning on her heel, she started for the bathroom and Logan growled. His hands gripped her waist effortlessly lifting her from the floor. He tossed her onto his shoulder, stepped over her dress, and laid her in the center of the bed. "No shower, no laptops, no photos."

Veronica stole his hat, angled it on her head, and leaned back on her elbows. Bending her leg at the knee, she gave him a pretty pout.

"Okay, maybe one photo." Logan pulled off his tie. "Of you- like that."

"Take your best shot." His hands stilled on his belt unsure if she was serious. "Tick-tock Lieutenant Echolls, your time is running out." Veronica started to rise and Logan whipped his cellphone from his back pocket. She chuckled. "You're so easy."

He took the picture. "I can add that to my Veronica in bed collection." Logan knelt on the mattress between her legs his hand gliding up her thigh.

"Did you remember to get my good side?"

"All your sides are good, Mrs. Echolls." He trailed kisses along her collarbone and then his mouth closed over the hollow at the base of her neck and he gently started to suck. A small moan escaped her and he smiled. "What was that about no moaning?"

"Commentary or consummating? You can't have both."

"I will save all commentary for when we look at the photos... _later_." More slow, tantalizing kisses down her neck and across her shoulder as his hand slipped beneath her to undo the first eyehook of the torsolette. " _Much_ later," he murmured against her skin.

 **XXXX**

Much later and he was asleep. His only commentary the smug and satisfied smile on his face.

Veronica kissed his shoulder and slipped from the bed, careful not to wake him. He hadn't gotten any sleep the night before — _too worried about me changing my mind_ — and she wanted him well rested for their honeymoon. She grinned. _His_ plan for their honeymoon was lazing around their private villa in the lagoon and doing nothing. While _her_ plan involved scuba diving, sightseeing, and a trip to the National Museum. Too much relaxing would drive her batty.

Picking up her wedding dress, she rolled it in a ball, and shoved it in the bottom of her garment bag with the discarded torsolette. The lacy briefs were a lost cause —ripped down the side by her ardent husband— and she tossed them in the trash. _My husband_. That was going to take some getting used to. Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars- _married_. She shook her head. _Who woulda thunk it?_

With her small valise in hand, she padded into the bathroom to remove her makeup and take a shower. She really should try going to sleep herself, but she was too wired. Each time she closed her eyes, her mind rebelled. Part of it was worry over Wyatt. The baby was just adjusting to having Logan home again and now they were both leaving her. Veronica rushed through her shower. She had the feeling that their trip was going to turn into _A Very Brady Honeymoon_.

Returning to the bedroom, she hung up his uniform and then bent over the large suitcase they were sharing to get her computer. A strangled groan came from the bed, and Veronica turned her head. Logan was awake and staring at her ass. _Everything turns him on_. "Are you okay there, Lieutenant?"

"What are you wearing?"

"Yoga pants." She straightened, laptop in hand, and turned around. It took a minute for him to read the slogan on her tank top and then he started laughing. "Do you like it?" Veronica pulled the hem down, displaying the shirt to full effect: an anchor with the words, _Sexually Deprived For Your Freedom_ , written underneath. "Mac bought it for me as my wedding night peignoir."

 **XXXX**

" _I can't believe you don't have a wedding dress yet," Mac muttered for what felt like the tenth time in an hour._

 _It wasn't that Veronica didn't_ want _to find a dress. In her usual organized fashion, she'd made a list of all the things she needed to take care of for the wedding and 'buy dress' was right at the top. She'd even gone to one of those fancy salons, but when she'd found herself alone in the shop surrounded by brides-to-be and their moms in search of THE dress, she'd left._

" _Are you here to judge my bride skill level or to help me?"_

 _Mac flipped through the rack of white dresses that were growing progressively more poofy and frilly. This was starting to look like a losing proposition because there was_ no way _Veronica was letting any one of those dresses even close to her body._

 _Turning away from the 'Cinderella-on-crack' ball gowns, Veronica pulled out her cell._

 _To: Keith_

 _From: Veronica_

 _3:30pm Paul Simon's "Father and Daughter"?_

 _To: Veronica_

 _From: Keith_

 _3:33pm Not a fan of the solo stuff- better with Garfunkel_

 _To: Keith_

 _From: Veronica_

 _3:34pm Who?_

" _Zero," Mac said as she moved to another rack. At Veronica's puzzled expression, she elaborated. "Your bride skill level is a zero." She pulled another dress from the rack and held it up for Veronica's inspection._

 _The skirt resembled a wrinkled bedspread and the bodice was all crystal beading in no discernable pattern with appliques and rhinestones. Veronica shuddered. "I vote- hideous."_

" _They're_ all _hideous." Mac glanced around the shop and shrugged. "Maybe we should try another store?"_

 _Mac's feigned nonchalance made Veronica's spidey sense tingle, but she played along, following her friend from the "Walmart of Weddings" for the short drive to an exclusive salon. "Uh, Mac? The sign says by-appointment-only."_

 _Mac pretended not to hear her as she pulled open the glass door and waited for Veronica to precede her into the shop. The ivory damask wallpaper, walnut wood floors, and diffused lighting spoke elegance. It was a sharp contrast to the dingy carpet and harsh fluorescence of their previous stop._

 _Dressmaker forms on black ,wooden tripod bases were artfully arranged around the room, wearing refined, beautiful gowns of silk, charmeuse, organza, and lace. Recessed spotlights positioned above the dresses illuminated each as if they were priceless works of art._

 _The hushed atmosphere was broken by a sudden cry of "Mama!" A toddler-sized bundle of pink tulle flew from the dressing room and across the floor, throwing herself at Veronica's legs._

" _Hey, sweet pea." Veronica scooped up the baby and showered her face with kisses. "Fancy meeting you here."_

 _She directed a pointed look at Mac who held up her hands, palms out and fingers splayed. "Surprise."_

" _Dow," Wyatt commanded and Veronica set her on her feet. The baby took a few steps, stopped short, and turned back, arm outstretched. She opened and closed her hand, beckoning them to follow. "Come me."_

 _Veronica smiled. Simple sentences were a new addition to her vocabulary —without the prepositions, of course— and Veronica loved hearing the sometimes very creative ways Wyatt strung words together. Logan was both shocked and a little sad by how much he'd missed while he was gone. She pushed the thought away and let Wyatt lead her to Dottie who was waiting by two cabriole sofas positioned in front of a full-length, trifold mirror and platform._

 _Dottie greeted her with a hug. "I think this is what you call an ambush bridal shower?" Veronica groaned and the older woman patted her arm. "Don't worry, we've got presents and cake to cushion the blow."_

" _Tate?" Wyatt looked around for the promised cake and pouted when she couldn't find it. "Tate," she asked again, staring at Dottie._

" _After lunch." She touched the top of Wyatt's head. "Don't you want to see your fancy dress in the mirrors?" The question —also known as 'the distraction technique'— worked its magic and Wyatt held out her arms for Dottie who picked her up and set her on the platform._

" _Baby." She pointed at her reflection and caught the movement of her arm in the side panels. Waving her hand, her head whipped back and forth as she tried to catch her image in all three panels at the same time._

 _Chuckling, Veronica shook her head. "So much for me trying on wedding dresses- I'm_ never _going to get her down from there."_

 _At the mention of wedding dresses, the bridal consultant emerged from the back of the shop with a rolling garment rack. She welcomed Veronica, offered her congratulations on the big day, and introduced herself as Kristie. "Your mother told me what kind of dress you wanted, so I thought we'd start with these."_

 _Kristie's faux pas caused twin looks of concern from both Dottie and Mac._ Guess Logan's right- I'm not as inscrutable as I thought. _Veronica offered a reassuring smile. "They look great."_

 _The dresses were exactly what she was looking for- strapless and simple with classic lines and either sweep or chapel trains. She flipped through the rack discarding the mermaid gown with the dropped-waist and the chantilly lace sheath._

 _Another bridal attendant bearing a tray of fluted-glasses appeared at her side. "Champagne?"_

 _Veronica took a glass and turned back to Dottie and Mac. Presents and tiered-trays of tea sandwiches were now arrayed on the small cocktail table in front of the sofas. Mac was helping Dottie get Wyatt out of the flower girl dress so she could eat lunch. Wyatt did not look happy as she kept trying to return to the mirrors._

 _Veronica stepped in. "Arms up." The baby put her arms in the air and Veronica pulled the dress over her head. "Where did Wyatt go?" Giggles from under the tulle. "She was just here a second ago; I wonder where she could be?" More giggling and Veronica tugged off the dress. "There she is!" She tickled the baby._

 _Wyatt wiggled away, laughing, and pulled at the hem of her cotton slip. "Do 'gain."_

" _Why don't you help Mommy open her presents, baby girl?" Mac suggested while waving a shirt box in the air._

 _Tearing paper was the latest craze, including toilet paper, Mommy's work,_ and _the mail. Mac ripped a corner to get her started and Wyatt proceeded to turn the silver paper into confetti._

 _Veronica turned to Mac and said, "I hope you know you're cleaning that up."_

 _Mac's eyes widened in mock outrage. "Who, me? She's your baby."_

" _Who you let make a mess." Veronica pushed back the tissue paper, removed the tank top, and shook out the folds so she could read it. She laughed. "Logan's going to love this."_

 _Veronica turned it around for Dottie to read and she grinned. "Perfect wedding night attire."_

 _The next box —also from Mac— was a set of lace garters with tiny pearls and pale blue ribbons. Veronica arched an eyebrow at the very traditional, un-Mac-like gift. "They're really from my mother- she insisted."_

" _Your dad has your something new; he wanted to give it to you himself. But this" —Dottie pushed the last box across the table to her— "Is from me. It's something old."_

 _Tugging the end of the ivory ribbon, Veronica loosened the bow and opened the square box. She lifted the kisslock, frame clutch purse from its bed of tissue paper and ran her fingers over the soft satin and delicate lace. "It's beautiful."_

" _I had it made from my wedding dress for you."_

 _Veronica blinked back the sudden tears and leaned over to hug Dottie. "Thank you."_

 **XXXX**

"Hey, are you okay?" Logan was sitting up against the headboard, waiting for her.

"I was just thinking about Dottie." Using the laptop as a tray, she balanced the pastry box on top, and grabbed the clutch from the dresser. It wasn't until after she'd returned home from wedding dress shopping that she'd found the card Dottie had tucked inside the purse.

"Still mad about the beach balls?"

"No." Veronica put her things on the nightstand, plugged in the laptop, and joined her husband in bed.

He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her over his leg and settling her body between his thighs. "You know, showering the couple with rice… _beach balls_ … is supposed to guaranty the newlyweds fertility and—"

"Uh, hello? Wyatt?" She leaned forward and craned her neck to see his face. "I don't think we need any help with fertility."

Logan nibbled her ear. "For all the future babies then."

"Babies?" Her voice climbed a full octave on the last syllable. "How many _babies_ do you think we're having?"

Rubbing his chin, his brow furrowed in serious consideration as if 'more than two' was an option. He gave a short, decisive nod. "Five."

"Five," she croaked. "Who are you having all these babies with?"

He smiled. "You, of course."

"I think you should pinch yourself because you're definitely dreaming."

"Well, obviously, dreams do come true." He pulled her back against him and nuzzled her neck "So five it is then. All girls who look like their mother, but with my wit and charm." Veronica rolled her eyes. "You're rolling your eyes, aren't you?"

"Never." She put the computer on her lap and opened the pastry box. The ten inch square box was loaded with her favorites: the mini chocolate lava cakes, cannolis, macarons, and red velvet petit fours. "Is this Dick's peace offering?"

"No, it's mine. I _did_ try to stop him from giving a toast."

Her teeth sank into the lava cake and she licked at the chocolate sauce in its center. "It wasn't too bad compared to what he wanted to add. Something about our wedding vows being perfect since we fuck like bunnies."

Logan rested his forehead on her shoulder and groaned. "You're right- he does need a muzzle." He kissed her back. "But he does have a point about us and rabbits."

"We are _not_ multiplying like rabbits so get it out of your head."

"Yes, dear." Leaning over, he stole the last bite of cake and licked her fingers. "Okay, let's see these photos you keep going on about."

Opening her clutch, she dumped the contents on the blanket: cell phone, lipstick, tissues, Altoids, safety pins, aspirin, and the memory cards. Veronica inserted the first one in her laptop and uploaded the pictures while she ate a cannoli. "I could use a glass of milk," she hinted.

"Are you sure you don't have one in this bottomless bag?" He peered inside the clutch and pulled out a small, cream-colored envelope with her name scrawled across the front. "What's this?"

"Private," Veronica said as she plucked it from his fingers and put it back in the purse. Leaving out the memory cards, she started tossing the other items back.

Logan snagged the tin of wintergreen Altoids and put them on his nightstand. "For later," he explained with a grin. A perplexed frown knit her brow as her gaze moved from the tin to his face. He waggled his eyebrows and her mouth popped open in a round 'oh' as understanding dawned. "They're mutually delicious," he sang to the tune of the Lucky Charms jingle.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling and switched the memory cards. He walked his fingers down her arm to the clutch at her side and reached for it. Veronica beat him to it, moving the bag to her nightstand.

"Are you really not going to show it to me?"

"I'm really not." She twisted her torso to face him and cupped his cheek. "It's from Dottie." Veronica kissed him. "She says she thinks of me like a daughter." Another light kiss. "That she loves both of us." A longer kiss this time. "And that she knows we are going to have a happy life together."

His hand slid over her ass as his tongue parted her lips and he started to press her into the mattress, knocking her laptop on its side and shifting the pastry box dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Logan pulled his head back and reached for the desserts, saving them from their fall. "Don't want to make the wife mad."

"Good call." She pushed at his bare chest. "Now how about getting me that milk."

Dropping a kiss on her nose, he disentangled himself from her and the blankets and left the bed to do her bidding. Veronica watched him walk, openly admiring his lean form. As her gaze fell to the V-cut of his abs, she licked her lips and let her eyes move lower. _Maybe the pictures can wait_.

"Mac tried to get me to tell" —he cleared his throat— "Eyes up here, Veronica."

"I don't know Logan, I think he likes the attention." She batted her eyes. "In fact, I'm seeing an overwhelmingly positive response."

He tossed one of the baby's milk boxes on the bed next to her, grabbed a pair of shorts from the open suitcase and tugged them on. Veronica sighed at the interrupted view and loaded the last batch of photos. "If I come back to bed are you going to behave?"

"Do you really want me to?" She yawned.

"No, but" —he slid beneath the sheets— "You should get some sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow… today."

Yawning again, she snuggled into his side and balanced the computer on his stomach. "What's the point in going to bed now? I'll just sleep on the plane." She opened the first file and started to click through the 'getting ready' photos.

Logan stilled her hand. "I haven't seen these."

"Duh, you haven't seen _any_ of them."

"You know what I meant." There were only a handful of shots of her getting her hair and makeup done before Veronica shooed Matt away and told him to go photograph something else more interesting, which explained the _several_ photographs of Logan's Navy buddies that immediately followed. Logan shook his head. "I'm going to have to email the squad this one of Biscuit showing off his flip-flops."

"What was your favorite part of the day?" She poked his side. "And be serious. No, _'all of it'_ or, _'getting to marry you'_ nonsense."

"That's not nonsense; those are just the facts, ma'am." He kissed the top of her head. "Hmm… the shave was nice —thanks for that, by the way— and the surfing, but the morning sex—"

"Of the wedding, Logan- your favorite part of the _wedding_."

"Oh... you should've been more specific." He massaged her shoulder, using his thumb to rub the base of her neck.

Veronica's eyes closed. _Talented hands_. "Mmm, keep that up and _this_ is going to be _my_ favorite part of the day… well, in the top five, at least."

"Well, _my_ favorite part of the day is easy - the moment you walked out of the restaurant in your dress."

Her mouth started to curve upwards in a smile and then she frowned. Sitting up, she turned to see him. "Were you really that afraid that I wasn't going to show?"

"That's not why it was my favorite."

 _And that wasn't really an answer_. Her frown deepened. Veronica knew he'd been nervous. A little worried that her track shoes weren't retired. And, she'd _tried_ to be reassuring —spending the night in the fancy hotel, arranging a special day for him, leaving that note from his wife— but maybe…

Logan smoothed the wrinkles from her forehead with his thumb. "It was my favorite moment because you were just so damn beautiful." He kissed her nose. "And I was the luckiest bastard ever."

"Not luck, Mouth." Veronica tapped his lips. "Skill." His jaw slackened and his eyes widened and she laughed. "Come on Logan, you really think I didn't learn the origin of your call sign?"

He shook his head. "I can't get anything past you."

"And you best not forget it." She gave him a quick peck on the mouth, wiggled her ass in between his thighs, and rested her back against his chest. Tilting the laptop screen so he could see it, she resumed clicking through the ceremony pictures. She stopped at the picture of their first kiss. "That's a good one."

"The picture or the kiss?" Logan placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Both." His magic fingers started rubbing her neck and her head lolled forward.

"Hey wife," he whispered in her ear. "I can't massage your shoulders _and_ run the slide show. Think maybe you can do a little work around here?"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch." Veronica clicked the mouse, advancing the frame.

They'd timed the wedding so that they could have the sunset as backdrop for their photographs and they were great shots. Dick had loaned them a busboy to act as runner —collecting people from the cocktail hour as they were needed— and they got most of the traditional photos of their non-traditional families. But Matt was a skilled photographer and he understood the beauty of civil twilight. The sky was a deep blue with an intense orange glow and spectacular threads of pink and red stretched across the horizon.

Logan put his chin on her shoulder. "I like that one."

It was just the two of them, standing face to face and holding hands with the ocean behind them. "Me too." She moved it to a separate file with plans of turning it into an eight by ten for their bedroom. The next one, they were facing the camera with Wyatt standing in between them. Veronica moved it, too.

"That's a good one of you and Wallace."

It was the second-to-last photo taken on the beach, right before _'Unca Wa'_ carried Wyatt into the restaurant in preparation for the bride and groom's grand entrance. The photo wasn't posed. It was a candid shot of the two of them laughing at Logan as he chased the baby across the sand, trying to keep her out of the water.

"The two of you could've helped me, you know, instead of laughing about it."

"But then I wouldn't have this picture and besides it was _hilarious_." She giggled at the memory of Wyatt trying to pull off her dress and Logan tripping in the sand as he made a grab for the running toddler. Veronica clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress the laughter as she clicked on the next photo: a face-planted Logan and a laughing Wyatt. "This one's going on the living room wall."

He reached across her. "Where's the delete key?"

"Don't even think about it." She smacked his hand away. Her mood sobered and she turned her head to see him. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about asking Wallace to be our witness. We could've had two so you could ask Jake or—"

"It's fine, Veronica. I meant what I said, Wallace was a good choice."

Nodding, she settled against him once more. Wallace wasn't just a good choice, he was her only choice.

 **XXXX**

" _Logan is not going to let you get married in the courthouse, V." Wallace jogged up the red brick stairs to join her at the fountain._

 _Veronica didn't know which part of his statement to address first, the_ 'let' _or the_ 'get married in the courthouse.' _Shifting in her seat on the base of the fountain, she glanced up at the Guardian of Water statue and then waved her arm at the Beaux-Arts, Spanish-Revival administration building. "Why not? It's a beautiful, old building" —she turned back toward Harbor Drive— "with an amazing view of the Bay."_

 _Wallace shook his head and sat next to her. "Still not going to happen."_

" _Humph," she snorted. "You're wrong. Logan would marry me anytime, anywhere."_

 _Wallace smiled. "You can't fight City Hall or Veronica Mars." He tapped her messenger bag. "When you said fancy lunch, a picnic at the courthouse didn't immediately spring to mind."_

" _I'll have you know I make a_ very _fancy peanut butter and jelly sandwich —organic jelly, no crusts— just ask Wyatt."_

" _Her palate is probably more refined than yours," he said drily._

" _Hey" —Veronica laughed— "I resemble that remark." Standing, she looped her bag over her shoulder, waited for him to stand, and slipped her arm through his. "Don't worry, BFF- no picnic lunch. I'm taking you to the Island for lobster bisque and fifty dollar steaks."_

" _Are we food cheating?" At her questioning head tilt, he grinned. "Regrets at having Dick Casablancas cater your big day?"_

" _Please, Dick's too afraid of me to screw anything up- he finally wrote himself a note: must instinctively fear Veronica." They waited for a break in traffic and scurried across the wide, divided avenue. "Although he_ did _try to sneak a pear salad onto the menu."_

" _Was your problem with the pears or that he was serving something healthy like a salad?"_

" _I eat salad," she protested._

" _Sure, macaroni salad, potato salad, and… what's that one with the big pile of bacon on top?"_

" _All of them," she answered with an impish grin. Veronica stopped to look at the boats and the submarine that were part of the Maritime Museum and then her gaze traveled across the bay toward Coronado._

 _Wallace gave her shoulders a little comforting squeeze. "So… why were you at the courthouse? Marriage license?"_

 _She shook her head. "Logan needs to be with me for that; I wanted to get a power of attorney for a wedding proxy." His brows shot up in surprise and she chuckled. "It's only a joke, but it should really get his goat." Veronica rubbed her hands together with evil glee._

" _You two are the strangest couple… ever."_

" _Probably," she agreed with an unapologetic shrug. "How are things at Taft? Thinking of turning the substitute gig into a full-time one?"_

" _Are you nuts? Wait" —he held up his hands— "Don't answer that, I already know the answer." She stuck out her tongue and Wallace shook his head. "No more elementary school for me; I miss Neptune High," he said with a sigh._

" _Bite your tongue- that's a horrible thing to say. Although... I suppose not all of my memories of high school are bad" —she turned, walking backwards so she could see him— "I did meet you."_

" _Forget it, I am not going to be your fake wedding proxy."_

" _Ha, ha, ha." Veronica lightly punched his shoulder. "I wasn't even going to ask you."_

" _Good." Wallace frowned. "Hey, wait, what's wrong with me?"_

 _She stopped walking and gave him an impulsive hug. "Nothing, Papa Bear, but that would be like marrying my brother." Veronica tucked her hand in his arm. "Besides, I've got more important tasks for you."_

" _On a scale of one to ten —one being an average amount and ten being a Veronica amount— how much trouble am I going to get into?"_

 _Their arrival at the restaurant kept her from having to answer. The wood-and-glass steakhouse was built on pylons rising out of the water and offered panoramic views of the bay, the yacht club, and Halsey field. Veronica asked for a table on the patio and waited until they'd placed their order before bringing up her reason for lunch._

" _You know Logan and I aren't having a best man and maid of honor, right?" Wallace nodded. "Not that I think you couldn't pull off pink taffeta and a rockin' pair of heels because you totally could."_

" _And I'd look damn fine, too."_

" _I take it back - my promise for a steak as big as your head? They don't make steaks that large." Veronica smirked. "I don't think they even grow_ cows _that big."_

" _Don't be jealous that I would look better in a dress than you, V. Green isn't an attractive color for a bride."_

" _Rats." She snapped her fingers. "Guess, I'll have to settle for white then."_

 _Her gaze fell to the table and the basket of breadsticks. Delaying, she buttered one of the twisted, crispy sticks. "While I was at the courthouse, I asked about witnesses… you know, to sign the marriage license. Most states require two, but in California you only need one."_

 _Putting down the bread, she looked at him. His eyes were alight with amusement and he was smiling at her discomfort. He knew_ exactly _what she was trying to ask and he was going to make her say it. "Will you be my one?"_

" _I'll have to check my schedule and all, but…" Veronica rolled her eyes and Wallace held up his hands to fend off the obligatory sarcastic retort. Turning serious he said, "You know I will, V."_

 **XXXX**

"Your sister wanted me to warn Wallace about his eating." Veronica clutched at Logan's arm and used the same thoughtless tone for her impression of Trina's well-meaning insult. "If he doesn't watch it he'll grow pudgy and that is _such_ a mistake for a short man."

Logan chuckled. "Hmm… then maybe now's not the best time to mention that I invited her for Christmas?"

"Seriously?" His tentative nod had Veronica swallowing her objections. "We'll get her a very nice hotel room."

"Good idea." Resting his cheek on the top of her head, he smoothed his hand down her arm and enfolded her hand in his. "She seemed sad today."

 _Manic_. Veronica frowned at the uncharitable thought. It must have been a rough day for Trina, surrounded by people she _knew_ , but not really friends or family. The only person with any real connection was Logan and their relationship was still shaky. "I'm glad she came."

"Yeah. When I called her from the ship, she wasn't sure she could make it." He let go of Veronica's hand and sat back, creating a gap between their bodies. "She still… keeps calling the baby LeeLee."

Veronica was positive that wasn't what he was going to say, but she let it slide. Trina would talk to him when she was ready- _if_ she was ever ready. "Maybe you should tell her why you picked Wyatt and she'll stop." _And it will allow for a real conversation between you two_ , Veronica thought, but didn't add.

A non-committal, " _Mmm._ " And then a subject change. "So what was your favorite part of the day?"

With a grin, she adapted his earlier answer. "The girl time with Mac was nice and the manicotti —thanks for that, by the way— but the morning sex—"

Logan tickled her. "Wench."

She snorted with laughter and wriggled away from his merciless fingers, using the laptop as a shield. Undeterred, he grabbed hold of her ankle and brushed his fingertips across the sensitive patch right inside the arch of her foot. "Stop, I'll be serious- I promise."

Kissing her toes, he released his hold on her ankle and she quickly drew her legs up and out of his reach, leaving the width of mattress as a safety zone.

"Don't make me come over there and pull out the big guns," he teased.

"Ooh, the big _gun_ \- color me intrigued." Putting down the laptop, she crawled across the bed, and reached for the tin of Altoids. "Or maybe you can prove your satisfaction rating, _Mouth_." She shook the mints at him.

Gripping her waist, he rolled them over until she was flat on her back and he was on top. His gaze was tender as he brushed the hair away from her face and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

"I love you, Logan." The forcefulness of her voice surprised both of them.

"I know." Rolling on his side, he cradled her to him, and she snuggled close. "No more pictures tonight."

"No more pictures," she agreed. Veronica was quiet for a moment simply enjoying the feel of his arms around her and the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear. _This is my favorite part of the day_. She smiled. "Seeing all our friends and family together in one place."

It was like her father said in his toast - that all the pieces had finally come together the way they were supposed to and it made a beautiful picture. Her life felt _right_. She'd spent so much time trying to force things to follow the expected path —the conventional path— that she'd lost sight of what was truly important. _But not anymore_.

"Dancing with my dad." She paused for a moment before muttering, "I _totally_ should've guessed that song." Logan chuckled at her indignation and she poked him. "You're supposed to be on my side, remember?"

"Right." He kissed her hair. "Then, yes, you _totally_ should have guessed _the_ most popular father-daughter dance song like _ever_."

Ignoring his sarcasm, Veronica lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest so she could look him in the eyes. "The best moment was seeing you and Wyatt waiting for me at the end of the aisle."

 **XXXX**

" _I had this whole spiel planned, to give you a last chance to back out." Keith's tone was teasing and Veronica smiled._

 _She knew her dad didn't have any objections to the wedding or his future son-in-law. He did occasionally like to give Logan grief —keep him on his toes— but any past resentments or residual anger was gone. Their mutual love for Veronica and now Wyatt had smoothed their relationship and Veronica knew Keith already considered Logan family._

" _Did it involve taking Logan with me?" Her dad shook his head and Veronica kissed his cheek. "Then no dice."_

 _There was a pause in the music as John Legend's 'All of Me' faded. It was their cue. "Ready?" Without waiting for her answer, Keith stepped from the restaurant. He held his arm at a right angle, palm against his torso, and Veronica slipped her hand into his crooked elbow._

 _The song Keith chose —Edwin McCain's 'Walk with You'— started and Veronica smiled at his sentimentality. She gave his arm a little squeeze. Looking away from him, she turned her head toward the beach and her waiting groom._

 _Veronica knew all of Logan's smiles. The tight-lipped smirk when he was being a jackass; the sardonic grin when he thought he was particularly witty; tiny, almost shy smiles when he was being cute or trying to get his way; the quick flash when he was genuinely amused, but didn't want the other person to know he found it funny. His face was very expressive: a quirked eyebrow, a scrunched nose, pursed lips, furrowed brows -she could read his thoughts just by watching his face._

 _But the smile he wore now was one she'd never seen._ Joy _was the first word that came to mind, but it didn't really capture the look on his face. Just like 'love' wasn't enough to describe how she felt about her family. Her gaze moved over Wyatt —nestled close to Logan, her head on his chest as she toyed with the buttons of his uniform— and then her eyes met Logan's. Veronica smiled._

 _It was a little surreal._

 _Despite her father's joke about his elaborate escape plan, running away wasn't something she'd ever considered —not in the months leading up to the wedding and certainly not today— because Veronica knew she was done running. She'd known it from the moment she'd told Logan "don't go" in her father's living room._

 _Past Veronica had perfected running away. She'd spent the entirety of their teenage relationship running away from his feelings —running away from_ her own _feelings— because they had terrified her. Fearless Veronica Mars had been afraid. The idea of marriage and commitment and love was too much for her. Being that vulnerable with another person was a risk she hadn't been willing to take and so she'd run away from it. After their first kiss at the Camelot, before their first real date, at his surprise non-birthday party, when he told her he was in love with her, his epic love speech at alterna-prom, nine years of radio silence…_

 _Logan had the power to decimate her._

 _But he wouldn't. There was very little in the world that was certain, but this —how they felt about each other— was her constant. She had no doubts, no second thoughts, and no misgivings. With each step that brought her closer to him and their new life together, she shed pieces of that old Veronica. The brittle, unforgiving, and judgmental woman who made Logan feel unworthy._ I am going to spend the rest of my life loving you and the life we build together _._

 **XXXX**

He tightened his embrace, acknowledging her words and she touched his cheek before laying her head back on his chest and nestling in the crook of his arm.

"Oh, and that cake."

"It was pretty incredible. I can't believe _Dick_ … of all people…" Logan sighed. "Maybe I should've asked him to be my best man. He really came through for me. Not just today, but…"

"He knows you love him, Logan."

A moment of silence while he absorbed her words and then: "Did you notice that he left with Mac?"

Veronica nodded. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open and they needed to be up in four hours. _I'm too old for an all-nighter_. She gave in and let her eyelids flutter closed.

"What was Dick's thumbs up about?" Logan asked.

She smiled. "I'll tell you on our anniversary- our _fiftieth_ anniversary."


	9. A CODA by THE TRIBE

**A WEDDING STORY - CODA by ALL**

 _ **Two months earlier...**_

"Veronica Mars."

The owner of the name jerked her head up in surprise. Vinnie Van Lowe was leaning in the open doorway of her office. "Guess Dad forgot to pay Terminex for our monthly pest control maintenance."

Ignoring the dig, he said, "A little birdie told me I'd be hearing wedding bells soon."

Vinnie was sure he saw a flicker of fear mingled with annoyance flit across her face. _Ha! So it_ is _true!_ Still, he was always impressed by her ability to deflect with an insult, and this time was no exception.

"What is this, your fourth desperate housewife? Fifth?" Veronica smirked. "Send her my condolences."

"So you and the Echolls kid, huh? I can see the headline now" -Vinnie held up his hands framing the imaginary words- "Logan Echolls, son of movie star Aaron Echolls, marries girl who accused famous father of murder."

Veronica stared at him for a long moment, clearly weighing her response. "That's quite a mouthful- do you get paid per word?"

"It really warms my heart that you two kids are making it work. _And_ if your daughter is anything like her parents, I'll be busy getting paid." He rubbed his thumb across his index and middle finger to symbolize all the money he expected to make following the future exploits of one Wyatt Echolls. "Cha-ching."

Veronica's gaze narrowed. "You know I'm licensed to carry a gun now, right?"

"Whoa, easy there Mars," he said, holding his hands up. "No need to get the claws out. I just came by to offer my congratulations." Turning to leave, he stopped and added over his shoulder, "I'll keep an eye on the mail for my invitation."

He waved and shut the door behind him, whistling as he left the building.

 **XXXX**

The next day he got the first email.

To: VanLowCanYouGo 

From: InsiderSecrets 

_Rumor has it Charlene Lawrence's family is going to kidnap her! They think she's brainwashed by her boyfriend and his alien-based "religion." Mission: Cult Deprogramming set to happen on October 7th during her big secret birthday bash in L.A._

It was such an obvious diversion tactic. _Thought she could get me to drive all the way to L.A. and miss her wedding._ Vinnie shook his head. _Poor kid, motherhood is turning her brain to mush._

Veronica's first mistake was sending the email the day after he visited her office. Her second was using Charlene Lawrence as a lure. Everyone knew she was starring in that movie Logan's dumb sister produced.

Now that he had the date he just needed the deets on the time and location. Luckily he had that covered.

In general, Vinnie had no use for kids, but he had a soft spot for his sister's kid, Dougie. The kid was a natural at hiding in the shadows, waiting for information. He showed a real talent for sucking up to the "in-crowd" at Neptune High. The 90909 zip code was teeming with the "one percent" and they all sent their kids to public school. Vinnie didn't know why - they weren't fooling anyone with their "man of the people" routine. But, whatever. Their desire to seem "approachable" made them easy targets. Teenagers talked more than the help.

From your garden variety extramarital affairs to secret plastic surgeries, married men on the down-low, hidden drug addictions, and that one actor who had an illegitimate daughter with his housekeeper, Dougie was an invaluable source. And now he was going to help Vinnie teach the Mars family a little humility.

His instructions to Dougie were simple - shadow Coach Fennel and report back.

Wallace was as tight-lipped as Veronica used to be and it was two weeks before Dougie had anything useful to report. "Coach was complaining about the time and—"

Vinnie snapped his fingers to shut the kid up. "Tell me his exact words.

Dougie rolled his eyes. "First he said, 'who gets married at sunrise' and then he said, 'she's having it at Dick's?' When he finally hung up the phone, he muttered something like I can't believe I gotta drive all the way to San Diego in the middle of the night."

As a reward for the information, Vinnie drove Dougie home and tossed him a few bucks. The information was easy enough to check out, he called Dick's restaurant in San Diego and tried to make reservations. A typical wedding was four to six hours long so there was no way Sans Souci — _pretentious name_ — would be open for lunch. But it got even better. The hostess told him the restaurant was closed that weekend for "renovations."

Day, time, location - check, check, check. _Look how far the mighty have fallen_.

He'd drive down early, have a little breakfast, and then scope out a good place to get his pictures. It was almost too easy. Vinnie frowned. Picking up his cell, he called his nephew and told him to keep up the surveillance on Fennel.

Dougie was back in his office a week later with more information. "It was another phone call. Coach didn't even see me. I was hiding—"

 _Teenagers._ "I haven't got all day; just tell me what he said."

"It's already taken care of, V, I hired Clarence Wiedman." Dougie pulled a sheet of paper from his backpack. "Then he left this on his desk and I made a copy." The kid was beaming with pride at his achievement.

Vinnie ignored him. Printed on Porcellian Security letterhead, it was a detailed plan of the security arrangements for the big day. _You're slipping, Mars, letting your little flunky take care of something this important_.

"It's good right?" Dougie asked eagerly.

"Yeah, nice work. Now you better go home before your mother calls here looking for you." The last thing he wanted to do was listen to Sherry bitch.

He didn't even notice his nephew leaving. The date and time were confirmed, but it wasn't going to be as easy as he first thought. Wiedman had arranged for a filming permit to shut down the street to the restaurant —probably the reason for the early hour— and they were locking down the location early. No one in or out past five a.m. unless they had an invitation. Roving guards with night-vision, license plate checks, video surveillance. _Geez, who did they have coming to this thing?_

He'd have to get there earlier than planned and find a way to get inside. Vinnie shrugged. He could lose a little sleep for such a big payday. _We undesirables do our best work in the middle of the night._

 **XXXX**

 _ **3:30 a.m. - October 7, 2018**_

It was close to three a.m. when Vinnie walked up the beach toward Sans Souci. Accessing the venue from the beach was a stroke of genius. The restaurant was dark. He pulled out his own night vision and checked for movement. _Nothing was stirring, not even a mouse_. Vinnie turned on the jamming device to disrupt any alarm calls and approached the back door.

The lock was a piece of shit. Inserting a bump key, he hit it with the handle of a screwdriver and unlocked the door. It opened into a dark office where he almost immediately tripped on something small and round. Clicking on his flashlight, he searched for the offending object, finally spotting a… mini beachball? _The office of a man with a tiny pet seal, apparently._ Kicking the toy aside with a silent curse, he shielded the flashlight beam, and silently moved into the restaurant looking for an ideal place to hide. Vinnie mentally discarded one potential hiding place after another until he found himself in the bar area. Where he stopped short.

 _What the fuck?_

The pendant lights over the bar area were on, illuminating the space, and a flat-panel television was on the bartop. It had been paused on an image of Veronica and an envelope was taped to the the screen. 'VINNIE VAN LOWE' was written across it in big, block letters.

Vinnie knew instantly that he had been outplayed.

Ripping off the envelope, he opened it and pulled out a single, slip of paper. More block letters, PRESS PLAY. Vinnie did as instructed.

On screen, Veronica waved a Mars Investigations pen and then started singing Lady Gaga's _Paparazzi_ into the pen like a microphone.

 _I'm your biggest fan; I'll follow you until you love me_

 _Papa-paparazzi_

 _Baby there's no other superstar; you know that I'll be your_

 _Papa-paparazzi_

Veronica stopped singing. "Nice try," she said with a wink, flipping him the finger.

Vinnie laughed, shaking his head in reluctant admiration. _I'll get her next time_.


End file.
